Dungeons and Heroes
by Negetive2digit
Summary: When three humans and an elf walk into a pub, it's a cliche and sounds like a joke with a bad punchline, but it may also lead to great things, like adventure, companionship, and redemption. Rated for language and violence. Addendum: Noticed some formatting differences due to the transference process to the site. Split things up a bit more to make reading easier.
1. Chapter 1

**Too many campaign comics and lots of video games breed some odd things sometimes. I own little that is referenced here and even used a name generator for the names.**

* * *

Oakenrest was a small commerce town. Successful enough from the traffic that passed through on the way to the rest of Falo, but still not as big or important as other cities like Honeyhorn. Its citizens numbered little more than two hundred and few were the troubles of this border town. What few there were, though, were serious enough for hirelings and adventurers to be brought in to deal with them, as the royal army rarely came out so far. Often the small things lead the lesser beings on their first step down the path to greatness, and when a regiment of Orc bandits set up an encampment in a cave five miles from Oakenrest and began raiding the area for supplies, this seemingly simple incident led to the meeting of four persons who would never have met at this time or place, if at all, and would sway the future of much more than the Kingdom of Falo...

The Crow's Craw was the local pub in this small town that was built with the trees from the surrounding forest, lit by candles on the tables and counter and a fireplace at the far end of the room; the watering hole for the local farmers and tradesmen to relax and trade rumors and troubles. Pubs were also where warrants and requests were posted on bulletin boards on one of the interior walls, for any shmuck or aspiring hero daring or stupid enough to take them. Reuben Nieves was more the two latter of the four than the former. He entered through the door with practiced swagger, born of his years of mercenary work and his nigh peerless skill with a blade. His hair was short and brown, though a bit scruffy, like his short beard. He wore a leather jerkin, padded against damage and made of sturdiest hide, though weather-stained from travel, like his brown, hooded travelling cloak. Across his chest was a baldric that held a light, round steel shield against his back, as well as a traveling satchel full of his few belongings. A sturdy leather belt, slung diagonally across his pelvis, held, clasped, an iron cruxiform arming sword with a half-tapered blade, in a leather sheath. Leather gloves also adorned his hands and leather were his greaves and travel-worn boots. His brown eyes, sharp and grave, swept across the room, searching for a certain table. Finding it, he took several heavy steps through the room, ignoring the odd patron or two that looked his way. The table he headed towards already contained a tall, clever-looking woman. Her auburn hair tied back in a short ponytail, she eyed him knowingly with brown eyes as he came over dourly. She wore a leather jerkin, too, of similar make, though it was more weather-stained than his, reflecting how much time she spent outside. She also wore a baldric, though it normally held a quiver of arrows, rather than a shield, and said quiver and her satchel were set casually in the seat next to her. Bracers, greaves, and a weather-stained, brown, hooded travelling cloak also completed her attire, as well as a pair of travel-worn boots. A pair of long knives were clasped to her belt, sheathed with leather, as well.

Reuben approached the table, unsmiling, and sat down weightily, frowning at her sudden change from a matching frown to a smirk of amusement.

"Geez, Reuben, ya act like ya ain't happy ta see me!" she teased with a sly smirk. He rolled his eyes at her levity.

"Ya know I'm here 'bout that job ya mentioned. I walked three days ta get ta this outta the way place, Cerys," he paused as she shoved a wooden mug of ale towards him.

"Always all business, eh, Reuben?" she chuckled. "Ya were headin' over, anyway, so I figured, 'Why the hell not?'. Ya shouldn't complain 'bout payin' work,"

"About that, when am I gettin' paid and how much?" Reuben answered coolly, not rising to the barb.

"Well, we'll have ta wait 'til the others get here," Cerys replied absently, nibbling at a biscuit. Reuben's eyes narrowed.

"Ya know I prefer ta work by myself, yer lucky I let _you_ in, ever," the mercenary grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Cain't help it, job's fer four an' two others already put in afore I got 'ere," the huntress rebuked. "You'll just have ta deal wit' it," She shoved the plate of scones at him as an act of contrition. He grudgingly took one.

Not a moment later, the pub door swung open again and a young man in pure white robes with matching hooded cloak and white cloth belt, showing only the smallest amount of dirt from travel, entered, carefully tapping the dirt from his rather new-looking leather boots before entering. His hair was longish and blond, though a bit tousled from his trip, and his eyes were blue. He gripped a wooden quarterstaff of ash and tipped with iron in one hand while wiping sweat from his face, with a white handkerchief, with the other. He put the handkerchief away and fingered his golden cross necklace nervously with his free hand as he looked around the dingy pub. Bryston hadn't liked the look of the place from the outside and the interior hadn't improved his opinion any. This place was much different from the Great Monastery, which had always been white, pristine, well-lit, and not reeked of alcohol and other things that the newly commissioned Cleric didn't want to think about. He was quite out of place here, as evidenced clearly by all of the stares he was getting, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and, pushing down his regret of taking a job out in this kind of area, walked towards the counter.

 _A Cleric must go to rather unpleasant places, sometimes, to do works of good, Bryston._ He thought to himself. "E-Excuse me? Sir?" the bartender, a squat, hairy man with a squint, gruffly turned towards the Cleric.

"Ya look a bit outta place here, kid," he eyed Bryston dubiously. "What're ya doin' here?"

"W-Well, I sent a message f-four days ago, about a job and I-I'm here to meet my fellows," Bryston stammered, clearly intimidated by the man's glower.

"The Orc job?" the bartender looked even more dubious. "Ya look like one Orc could do ya in by sittin' on ya, but it's none o' my business." He jabbed a thumb at a table where a mean-looking mercenary and a cool huntress were already sitting. "The party's over there. Good luck, kid,"

"Th-Thanks," Bryston gave a little bow and turned to join the table, despite his better judgement.

"That kid is totally outta place here," Cerys commented, watching the Cleric make his way over to the counter. Reuben gave a snort that was likely agreement. "Wonder what he's doin'?"

"Tch...prob'ly some dumb-ass pilgrimage or some such," the mercenary said, dismissive.

"I dunno, the bartender's pointin' 'im over 'ere," the huntress observed.

"Oh, hell, no!" Reuben grimaced. "Don't tell me we're gonna have ta put up wit' that milk-blooded target of a Cleric on this job!"

"'kay, I won't," Cerys smirked, enjoying his annoyance. Reuben was tempted to clock her with a plate, but thought better of it and just took a deep swig of his ale in an attempt to pacify himself.

"U-Um...excuse me..." the Cleric stuttered. "I-I'm Bryston Cross. A-Are you on th-the Orc job?"

"Yep!" Cerys gave a predatory smile, baring her teeth, which did nothing to placate Bryston. "I'm Cerys Hunter and this's Reuben Nieves," Reuben gave a grunt and a scowl, which was likely as courteous a greeting as one was likely to get from the man. "Have a seat!" She rose from her seat and shoved the poor Cleric down next to the cranky mercenary, nearly causing his quarterstaff to clatter to the floor, before returning to her own seat. Reuben visibly moved further down the bench to avoid contact with the other Human as he scrambled to keep hold of his weapon.

"I hate ta see the other one who applied..." he muttered, tempted to bail on the job there and then. Of course his ego and pride would never allow that, but it was a nice thought at that moment. Cerys shoved another mug of ale towards Bryston but he visibly blanched.

"N-No, thank you. I don't d-drink," he declined. Cerys shrugged and swapped the mug for her empty one.

"Suit yerself," she responded, taking a swig.

 _This locale is quite different from the precincts and architecture of Magevault._ Reuben wouldn't have to wait long, as the fourth member of their party was heading in the door at that moment, head spinning with the sights, sounds, and smells of Oakenrest. This was her first time in a Human city and her curious nature was quite in overdrive at the moment. _Ew...this pub could use some Elmjain leaves, though..._ Alyndra scrunched her elegant nose as the door closed behind her. Her forest green robe, satchel of woven leaves, leather belt embroidered with the pattern of many leaves, pointy leather boots, and, not least, her pointed ears that were slightly taller than Human ears, stood out even more that Bryston had. Upon lowering the hood of her green cloak, her hair was revealed to be black as ebon and to look soft as silk, tied back in a lovely braid that had to take excessive time to create, though it completed the image of Elvish aesthetic refinement in conjunction with her vibrant green eyes. Few Humans saw Elves much anymore, as they tended to keep to themselves and their own kingdom of Tweplund, to the west, and Humans rarely visited that place. The schism was to be expected, though, as both sides had committed atrocities against the other at various points in history. It didn't help that many Humans were unnerved by Elves' tendency to live for one thousand years, give or take a few centuries. Of course, wide-eyed and excited about her first mission as a graduate of the Magevault Magickal Academy, Alyndra wasn't thinking about this at the moment. She disregarded the odd, curious, and hostile mixed looks she got and headed elegantly to the counter. It was fortunate that Oakenrest's citizens weren't quick to jump to hostilities like some would be in more populous or corrupt areas of the Human kingdom.

"Let me guess, the Orc job?" the bartender grumbled, acting as though wiping glasses was a task that required no interruptions.

"Yes, sir. I have journeyed from the southeastern reaches of Tweplund to endeavor on this quest of great import," she stated eloquently. The bartender looked nonplussed before pointing at the same table as before.

"Right over there. The others're here already," he went back to his duties and allowed her to make her way over. "Milk-bloods and Elves, what next..." he muttered after a space.

Reuben glared daggers, with such intensity, at the Elf, as she approached, that Bryston ducked, fearing some sort of ignition from the mercenary's eyes. Cerys looked a bit uneasy, herself. She hadn't seen Reuben like this before. That wasn't annoyance in his eyes. It was borderline hate. This wouldn't end well.

"Greetings," the Elf hailed them once she was close enough, giving a little bow. "I am Alyndra Virnan, apprentice magician and graduate student of the Magevault Magickal Academy. I am honored to be given the opportunity to share in the glory of this mission of goodness and to serve with such worthy adventurers such as yourselves. May I inquire to your identities?"

"Jeez, don't ya ever shut up, Elf wench?" Reuben snapped, finally having enough, and slamming a fist on the table in irritation. "Half those words woulda sufficed and saved us time we ain't got!" Alyndra's face reddened, with embarrassment and anger.

"Just because I am more cultured than yourself does not mean that you may fling such discourtesy my way, Human wretch!" she growled, fists clenched, energy crackling around her fingers. Reuben rose, hand already on his sword hilt.

"Easy, easy!" Cerys shouted, jumping up while Bryston shook and fell out of his seat in an attempt to move aside from a potential battlefield. "Let's not be killin' each other! The Orcs'll do that just fine when we get there!"

"Y-Yes, please turn the other cheek," the Cleric begged, not wishing to see bloodshed. Reuben looked no less hateful, but turned away, with visible effort, posture tense.

"We leave in an hour," he managed to say, though suppressed rage was obvious in his voice. "Meet me at th' north gate," He trudged out of the pub, heedless of the attention that the fight had attracted. Bryston breathed a sigh of relief. Cerys followed suit.

"Sorry 'bout that," the Huntress offered, trying to assuage the still-fuming Elf. "I dunno what's up wit' him," Alyndra frowned before taking the seat that Cerys proffered.

"He obviously severely dislikes the Elven folk, " the mage observed. "I've heard of Humans like that, but to see it in person...But the question is, why? From what I have apperceived, Humans rarely hate Elves, of late, so acutely, barring some sort of deep-seeded reason, save in areas where political or social climate is inclined towards such prejudice. It is far more usual to see discomfort or distrust in these border regions. Does he hail from such locales as inspire dislike of Elven folk?" Cerys was at a loss and shrugged. There was a space of silence.

"Well, anyway, I'm Cerys Hunter," she announced, at length, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

"I'm Bryston Cross," the Cleric offered.

"And he's Reuben Nieves..." Cerys added a bit sheepishly, finishing her ale to fill the uncomfortable silence, after pointing quickly at the pub door. She shoved a remaining mug of ale towards the Elf. Alyndra accepted it but quickly put it down after taking a sip.

"I must say, the beverages of Human hamlets are quite...aberrant, to say the least," she noted. "I've a myriad of drinks that I can recall, from my homeland of Tweplund, that are far more palatable and savory. To each their own, I suppose," she added the last part wistfully.

"Well, guess I've been missin' out," Cerys commented with a grin. "Maybe I'll try some uh those drinks if I'm ever there,"

"S-should we not follow the frightening man to the gate? The hour does not linger," Bryston interjected timidly. Cerys sighed.

"Sure, why not," she rose. "But ya need ta grow some balls, kid," she grabbed his shoulder roughly and gave it a little shake. "Cain't adventure stammerin' all over the place," He smiled weakly.

"I-I'll try,"

* * *

The oddly-matched party of mixed race and experience left the pub eager, for various reasons, to get their mutual job over with. Alyndra seemed to have gotten over her little spat with Reuben, at least for the moment, and was admiring the town.

"The structures of these buildings are much dissimilar to Magevault," she went on. "The support beams are utilized using more physics and less magic, as is the wont of Humans, as they lack the magical potency of the Elves. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, as their own style and craft shine through in the superstructure of their domiciles," This was, by no means, the end of her little spiel, but for time's sake, that's all that will be recounted here. She continued on into Elvish construction and their realization that strengthening physics-based superstructure and infrastructure via magic allowed constructions that both defied physics and were quite useful for various other applications. Bryston listened with interest, though some of the diction went over his head at times, whereas Cerys became quickly lost in the lack of vernacular and decided to just focus on where they were going. The north gate wasn't too far from the pub, but it was still a good five minute walk, not helped by the two obvious neophytes acting as though they were on holiday. The huntress sighed.

 _Guess it cain't be helped._ She added in thought. _At the very least, the Cleric'll be useful fer healin' up the wounds we'll get...and any Reuben does to us if he snaps._ She smirked wryly at the last part of her thought. Cerys looked ahead, coming out of her contemplation, and spotted Reuben leaning against the gatepost ahead, arms crossed. He still looked quite cross, though that was normal enough. Judging by how the gate guards were eyeing him and clutching their hastas, withal, he must have been much more frightening when he had first arrived. "Hey, Reuben! Ready ta have some fun?" she called to him with a wave. He gave her a look that plainly said that he didn't appreciate her buoyancy.

"This's work, Cerys," he warned, face unchanging, though his eyes glinted when he spotted Alyndra in the back of the group. "If ya want games, find some youths ta dally wit',"

"That's what he always says," the huntress shrugged, addressing the whole group. "Well, let's go," She gestured the group out the gate and took the lead. Reuben, grumbling, followed suit, followed by Bryston and then Alyndra, who continued her spiel about architecture for a little while.

The party walked, tramped, stepped, and lightly tread, respectively, down the well-travelled dirt road that lead north from Oakenrest. Convoys frequently used this road to bring goods down from places like Honeyhorn, Westhold, and even Stagdrift on their way to places like Blindshore and Fallmond. Recently, though, Orcs had been using the road to waylay merchants and passersby, taking their things and often kidnapping them to terrible fates if not murdering them outright.

Cerys glanced around, stooping to the ground occasionally, listening and looking for signs of their enemies, though a bit hampered by Alyndra's talking. She creased her brow, in mild irritation, but did her best to sort the din out.

"The trees in this vicinity are quite useful as firewood, when properly dried, as they burn for quite a while compared to your average hardwood," Alyndra had moved on to flora and fauna now. "Those pink blossoms growing by the road are also quite useful, Farlaika the Elves call them, and they can be made into a poultice that can staunch bleeding wounds. Of course, we have a Cleric with us," she nodded at Bryston respectfully. He gave a timid smile in response. "So I doubt that we will require such a poultice, but I possess the knowledge and proficiency to constitute one, so these flowers may prove useful,"

"Can it, Elf doxy, or I'm gonna cut yer throat out!" Reuben snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder. "We got no time ta pick damned flowers and Orcs might hear yer constant jabberin' on like a pinhead lass on opiates!" Reuben might have noticed Cerys's struggling to use her tracking abilities or maybe he was just fed up with the constant speech, like he said, but Alyndra, naturally, took more than a bit of offense at his insults.

"You are likely a libertine yourself, Human!" she snapped, hands glinting with magic. "I know sell-swords like you! They frequently deceive extrinsic lasses to bed them and then abandon them at the first opportunity! How dare you accuse me of being a-a strumpet!" Reuben spun, sword almost drawn, but Cerys put a hand on his sword arm to belay him.

"Bitch! I'll kill ya fer that! Get off me, Cerys!" he tried to shake the huntress off, but she held firm.

"Please, let's not fight!" Bryston pleaded. "Lord Angelick would not want us to kill each other while we are in fellowship!" Reuben's eyes flashed at the word.

"Fellaship!" he barked. "I'll have no fellaship wit' an Elf! Yer all jus' here so th' killin' gets done faster! I don't need any of ya!" He spun, nearly knocking Cerys to the ground, and set off at a brisk pace. It was quiet for a while.

"Well, if all that shoutin' didn't alert th' Orcs, his walkin' sure will," Cerys shook her head. She could detect his heavy footfalls from quite a distance away. Alyndra glared after him, sorely tempted to put a Magic Missile squarely in his back. She mastered the violent impulse, though, and was silent. Bryston sighed in relief that the conflict was abated.

"C-Cerys? Shouldn't we follow him?" he inquired of the huntress.

"I guess...but he's gonna get ambushed at this rate..." she looked off into the dense trees near the road. "Tell ya what, you two go after 'im and I'll scout out th' area," She ran off towards the tree line, quickly yet quietly. "See ya later!" she was gone quickly.

"She possesses skills nearly on par with many Elvish woodmen I have known," Alyndra noted stiffly, though notably more softly than her previous speech. Perhaps she did realize the danger they were in, finally.

"Really?" Bryston asked as the two continued up the road. "I haven't really left the monastery since childhood, so I'm not really familiar with these things,"

"Oh, yes, there are Elvish woodsmen that are such legendary hunters that they have overcome game that were said to be impossible to hoodwink or defeat, much less bring back," the mage noted, her smile returning and her tone brightening. She continued in this vein for a while, though softly, before Bryston interrupted.

"Say, do you hear that?" he tensed, for the sound he spoke of was that of metal on metal. The sound of combat.

"Yes, would that I had been less voluble, my keen ears likely would have detected the din with greater celerity. Come!" she dashed forth, the Cleric on her tail.

* * *

"Come on ya bastards! It's ten on one and ya got the drop on me!" Reuben taunted as he faced down six Orcs, each wielding a jagged and overused falchion with a small handguard and crudely wrapped grip. Four of the green-skinned, black-haired, red-eyed, tattered loin-cloth-wearing humanoids lay dead on the road already, their blackish-red blood staining the ground. Two more Orcs rushed him, swinging their blades in circles, he ducked the first, shearing the wielder's arm off at the elbow, and blocked the second blade with his shield, producing a loud clang. As the weapon bounced off, he quickly countered by hacking the Orc's hand half off, making him drop his blade. The fight culminated in two more quick swipes that beheaded one orc and cut the other in half. The remaining four attacked as this happened, each from a different side. Reuben prepared to perform a difficult maneuver of some kind but two were struck down by Magic Missiles. He took advantage of the confusion this sowed and cut the remaining two up the front of one and down the front of the other. They all slumped over, dead. The mercenary spat on the corpses. "Not even worth my time," He wiped his bloody sword with a dirty rag from his satchel as he turned to the other two that had just arrived.

"Are you hurt?" Bryston asked with genuine worry.

"Are ya kiddin'?" Reuben replied disdainfully. "These chumps're amateurs. I could read their every move," He offered no thanks to Alyndra for potentially saving him one of his limbs or a painful healing session, but, instead, pointed into the trees. "They came from that way. Their cave must be somewhere over there," He set off in the indicated direction, leaving the other two to follow. Alyndra frowned at his lack of gratitude, but decided not to provoke him this time.

 _I'd rather keep all my limbs...but I'd likely take one of his too._ She thought grimly, using her light Elf steps to her advantage while she followed the noisy swordsman. His footsteps echoed loudly in her ears, even now that they were on grass. _Well, at the very least, any ambushes will be targeting him first. That's good for me._ She possessed some close range spells, and had a dagger on the back of her leather belt, but these required having to be within the range of sharp objects. Reuben's head turned from side to side as he went on ahead. He was no Cerys or much of a woodsman, as expert trackers were often called, but he could still see a cave entrance, hopefully. Bryston glanced nervously around the forest that would have been beautiful at any other time. He was sure that Alyndra was suppressing the urge to talk about it. One thing he knew about Elves was that they adored nature and that went double for woods. Birds chirped in the distance, but not anywhere nearby, which was indicative of their quarry's presence nearby. The leaves rattled gently in the spring breeze and the flowers and tall grasses waved, but she detected no sign of any foe. Suddenly, she heard quiet footsteps, so quiet that she was sure the two Humans with her couldn't hear them. The Elf maiden tensed, a spell ready, but saw there was no need when Cerys emerged from nearby undergrowth a minute later. The Humans of the party jumped, readying themselves, before they relaxed in recognition. Alyndra had already been ready so she showed no such shock.

"The cave's just a quarter mile ahead," the huntress informed them. "There're Orc sentries in the area, walkin' a circular path. We'll have ta be careful not ta let 'em alert their buddies."

"We already took out an ambush party," Reuben stated. "They're gonna be a bit suspicious already, I'm sure,"

"Hmm...explains why more started hangin' out by the cave entrance..." Cerys observed. "Anyway, nothin' to it but ta do it! Come on, folks!"

The party crept on, as much as was possible, anyway, for several minutes. Whether it was because of Cerys's skills or because of sheer luck or chance, they seemed to remain undetected. It became obvious why they had encountered no sentries, though, when they came across an Orc that was strangled in a vine loop trap. Cerys smirked at her small triumph.

"Never said I di'n't set some traps up," she whispered in response to their surprise. Creeping on, the trees ended and a large cave mouth in the side of a hill, shaded by a thick canopy of leaves, became visible to the quartet. Four large Orcs were in front of it. One was sitting and whittling a bone with a knife, two others were pacing impatiently. The fourth was complaining in his own language, or so they assumed. Even Alyndra knew little Orkish, as she didn't really go in for the uncouthness and vulgarity every word in the tongue seemed to exhibit. "Good, they don't got bows," the huntress muttered. "Makes it easier. Reuben, do your thing," He nodded and made to leap from the underbrush. As he did, Cerys released an arrow from hiding, knocking down a pacing Orc. They reacted quickly, rushing for Reuben. A second arrow took out the other Orc that had been pacing as Reuben slashed through the one that had been complaining. The whittler threw his knife in desperation as he leapt up, but the mercenary dodged it as another arrow took care of the remaining opponent. The others emerged from the bushes and came over to Reuben, joining him in looking doubtfully down into the cave as Cerys retrieved three of her twenty arrows. Bryston was obviously scared, but tried to keep it together, though the blanching of his face made this moot. All these strong warriors had to be hurt at some point and, if they were, he would have to heal them quickly. That's what he told himself for motivation, anyway.

"H-How many do you th-think there are?" He directed at Cerys. She shrugged.

"I cen never tell with these guys, but they're just bandits. Prob'ly no more'n ten 'r twenty," she estimated.

"There is no guarantee of how extensive these caves are, withal," Alyndra put in. "It is possible that there exist hundreds that could be ensconced at any location within,"

"Unlikely," Cerys disagreed. "Orcs in them numbers wouldn't bother wit' sparse stealth raids. They'd sack the town,"

"Whatever, let's just get this over wit'," Reuben started down the muddy slope that led into the cave. As they went, the disgusting smell of rotting flesh, filth, and bodily odors met their nostrils, making the greenhorns feel a bit sick. Cerys didn't relish trying to track anything in this stink, but she still scanned the area for clues as they came to the antechamber of sorts at the bottom of the slope. She clutched her bow in readiness as she peered into the gloom. The main source of light was a few guttering torches placed randomly and haphazardly into random makeshift holders. Odd, as Orcs have great night vision, but maybe they still liked mild light, for some reason.

"Sure could use some more light," she murmured, turning to Bryston. "Could you make one?"

"O-Oh...right..." he jolted, surprised at actually being needed for once. He grabbed a random rock off of the floor. "Light!" the rock began to shine like a lamp. Cerys took it and crammed it in a random unlit brazier-based torch, from the floor, for easier holding.

"Seems like they keep to themselves," she observed, slowly walking around the room and observing footprints in the mud, discarded objects, old crusts of moldy bread. "Well, mostly, but there are groups in some places, like this way," she gestured to a nearby passageway. "At least seven have gone this way lately," She wrinkled her nose. "This is likely the way to the kitchen,"

Creeping on, the four came across an Orc that was lounging in the hallway. Reuben quickly silenced it before it noticed what was going on. Bryston was quite unhappy with the killing already, and killing something so dishonorably didn't help his feelings about this whole business. Going on, the kitchen came into view. Unfortunately, these Orcs were fully awake and working and the light of their torch alerted them. The party ducked back into the hallway to avoid a barrage of knives. Two of the Orcs advanced with cleavers while the other three grabbed pans.

"Magic Missile!" Alyndra shot two bullet-shaped shots of iridescent light from her fingertips, with some delay between each, and hit two pan-wielders. Reuben easily deflected and blocked the cleavers, shearing their owners fatally, and Cerys, having thrust the torch at Bryston, feathered the last Orc with an ace shot to the throat.

"Oi, where's me food!" an angry Orc voice shouted from the other room. Oddly enough, it spoke in the Falo tongue. "I'm gonna make a meal outta ya guys if me food ain't here soon!" it barked. The party headed into the other room to see a fat Orc, wearing a bib and loincloth, of disgusting proportions, sitting at a table that was stacked with picked-clean carcasses of various beasts and some unfortunate Humans, licked-clean plates, and some of his fat rolls. The Orc licked at the drippings and gravy smeared around his mouth and glanced at the party, his red eyes glinting under a curtain of greasy black hair. "Who the hell are you! Where's mah dinner?" His gaze caught Alyndra and he drooled sickeningly. "Oh, that one looks kinda tasty," he licked his mouth even more repugnantly.

"Oh, dear Lord," the Elf couldn't help but say as nausea swept through her.

"Come 'ere, little Elfy! I'm gonna eat ya!" the Orc shouted.

"Only in your most insane fantasies, fat-ass!" she retorted, saying the last part in Elvish and holding back vomit.

"I'm bigger than you; I'm higher in th' food chain! Get in my belly! Come on!" he insisted, rising with a cleaver in one hand and a large fork in the other.

"Yes, please help yerself. She won't be missed." Reuben interjected cruelly with a smirk.

"Bastard!" the Elf retorted at the mercenary while firing a blue beam of light at the Orc. "Ray of Frost!" The Orc's flab seemed to work against this and insulate him from the cold, causing the attack to only result in a mild shiver.

"Oh, aye, very clever," he mocked. "Now come 'ere!" He shuffled forward. Cerys hit him with three arrows, staggering him backwards slightly.

"Oh! That stings!" the Orc complained, regaining his footing.

"Magic Missile!" another missile knocked the Orc back further.

"Ya guys suck," Reuben rolled his eyes and advanced. The fat Orc took a mighty swipe with his clever, forcing Reuben to step out of the way. He aimed a counter stroke that would have cut off the Orc's arm, but he managed to pull his arm away in time and aim a stab with his fork.

"Oh, I got yer skills too, sonny Jim!" the Orc taunted, despite the fork bouncing off of Reuben's shield. More arrows planted themselves in the Orc's bulk and another Magic Missile exploded on his shoulder, but he just didn't seem to be affected much.

"Die already, ya dumb son of a bitch!" Reuben shouted in frustration as he continued to trade blows with the loathsome being. He managed a couple of nicks to the Orc's bare chest, though he received the same in kind on his sword arm and face.

"Flare!" Alyndra shouted, finally, in a stroke of brilliance.

"Oh! That's no fair!" the Orc protested as his vision was hampered by a bright light that only appeared in his vision. He missed one of his swipes completely, allowing Reuben to finally skip disarming him and go for a kill. The blinded Orc was cloven halfway through, the strike losing momentum because of his great bulk. The swordsman wrenched the blade free as the Orc fell to the ground with a great enough impact to shake the room and knock a few things over. Reuben thrust the sharpened iron through the flabby skull of the monster, with a satisfying crack and squelch, to ensure his demise.

"Glad that's over," Cerys commented, plucking the arrows, with some effort, that hadn't broken with his calamitous fall back out of the Orc, taking care not to damage them. She managed to salvage enough to have ten left.

"Hmph...well, this guy prob'ly alerted the others, so we'd best be gettin' ready fer round two," Reuben flexed his muscles experimentally, quickly looking his blade over to make sure it hadn't suffered any lasting harm. Sure enough, more Orcs came charging through the door almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Bryston screamed and fell backwards from the sudden close proximity of so many hostile beings while Alyndra took the more practical approach as she turned an Orc's attempt to grab her against him and seized his arm, coating her hands with fire and burning him alive in a terrifying conflagration. This dismayed the foes long enough for her to get back and begin conjuring Magic Missiles while Cerys began firing arrows again. Bryston rolled out of the way as Reuben heedlessly attacked the Orcs in their shock. He cut down three easily, blocking another attack and ducking another before slicing into two more. An Orc that had somehow slipped past the fierce melee grabbed Bryston as he got back up, but he forced it to let go with his ability to inflict minor wounds with touch. He didn't like using his healing powers in reverse, but it got the job done. Cerys shot the Orc as it jumped back from him with a cry.

Soon enough, thirty Orcs lay dead in the dining area.

"Warm work, sure enough," Alyndra panted as the battle came to a close.

"That's why ya make sure ya know what yer in fer afore ya sign up fer an adventure," the Huntress smiled, wiping her blades clean with a dirty cloth and trying to salvage a few arrows from her fallen foes. "Ya think that's all of 'em, Reuben, or do ya wanna check the rest of the place?"

"No and no," he answered. "Let's go," Bryston finished healing everyone's minor injuries, his fingers glowing faintly with a blue light as he ran them over the nicks, cuts, and abrasions, swallowed his nausea, and re-imbued their torch with light before they finally left the gore-filled kitchen area. The corridors were quiet and neither the tracking skills of Cerys or the ears of Alyndra detected any life still remaining in the cave. As it turned out, the other two paths led to dead ends after a little while. One was the very smelly and unappealing barracks for the Orcs.

"Nothin' here but puke-worthy shit," Reuben observed, kicking down a fragile construct that was likely an Orc bed. Bryston flinched at his vulgarity, like he had all day, but said nothing, still shocked from the fierce battle he had just been on the edge of. The other dead end was a storage room. There was food, which they were surprised had escaped the fat Orc, and many things like cloth and jewels that had been taken from their victims.

"That's the lot of them, then," Cerys concluded. "Back ta town for us,"

"Shouldn't we take these things back to the people so that they may find their rightful owners?" Bryston inquired as the party turned to leave.

"Nah, better ta let the townsfolk do it," Reuben grunted. "'Sides, yer scrawny arms could scarce lift most o' this stuff,"

"I s'pose he has a point..." Cerys concurred. "Let's just tell th' barkeep when we get back,"

The quartet were grateful to leave the unpleasant cave. Cerys quickly scouted the area and concluded that her traps had killed all of the patrols. "There's always the odd chance o' one bein' around somewhere but I think we got 'em," Heading back to the road, Alyndra now took the time to enjoy the forest and tell them a bit more of it, though she took care to hang back from Reuben this time. Bryston smiled at this pleasantness after the horrors of the Orc cave, listening to lots of knowledge that he hadn't heard in the monastery. Making it back to the road, they found it cleared. Likely because of passersby moving the corpses out of the way so that they could pass. Taking to the road again, the four headed back towards Oakenrest, thinking that their adventure together was nearly over.

* * *

 **It may not seem like it, but this is basically a campaign comic, just without showing the OOC stuff and, apparently, these guys are really good roleplayers. The DM seems a bit lazy at times, though, as can be seen by the Austin Powers reference in the boss Orc. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully there will be more soon. Critiques appreciated.  
**

 **Addendum: A hasta is a roman spear that is relatively short for a spear, or so I believe so it's taking the place of the shortspear.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The adventure continues. More characterization in this chapter, but that also means more coarse language. You've been warned!  
**

* * *

2

The sun was already nearing the west, likely an hour or two from setting, when the victorious group saw the northern gate and walls of pointed timber of Oakenrest come into view again. The guards hailed them, obviously surprised to see them back.

"We heard of the Orc attack on the road from some merchants, earlier," one of the guards stated. "We worried that you four may have met your demise,"

"Nay, good defender," Alyndra replied with her usual eloquence. "We have conquered, as promised, and return to procure our recompense,"

"Or, in words ya cen get, we slaughtered the lot," Reuben interjected, giving the Elf the stink eye. Alyndra shot him a dark look in return.

"Wonderful!" the other guard replied. "May the Lord Angelick bless you on your journey,"

"Amen," the first guard agreed.

"And to you as well," Bryston added, putting his hands together briefly. The trip back to The Crow's Craw was short, though filled with Alyndra's words regarding the daily life of the village's inhabitants. Simple chores like bringing in the laundry, rounding up the kids for supper, and drawing water from the town well brought much enjoyment to the curious Elf maiden. Reuben hastened his pace, pulling ahead of the group a bit. He was eager to get his pay and be done with these irritating dullards. He'd get a room at the inn, have a bit to drink, and sleep it all off.

"Surprised yer back," the bartender nearly dropped his mug he was cleaning as the group came back in and approached the counter. "There was a massacre up on the road. Orcs dead everywhere."

"It's ta be expected from expert adventurers," Cerys responded proudly. "So that's...one hundred gold apiece, if I recall,"

"It is," Reuben nodded, setting his stare on the bartender.

"Right, right..." he grumbled in response. "Here," he handed over a leather pouch to Cerys. It clinked with the sound of coin. "Thanks fer doin' us a service, even if only fer gold,"

"You're quite welcome, sir," Bryston answered. "It is the duty of the Lord's messengers to do good for the people," Cerys quickly divided the coins up and made four even piles of one hundred.

"'k. Ev'ryone take yer share," she scraped hers into her pouch. The others followed suit, though Bryston did so awkwardly. "Now, who's gettin' drunk tonight!"

"N-No, thank you," the Cleric meekly declined. "I'll just find a room for the night and some dinner, if that's all right with you,"

"I must also repudiate with utmost apology," Alyndra answered. "I do not yearn to imbibe of the beverages at this establishment, as I have already expressed a distaste for them,"

"Yeah, yeah, ya think yer drinks high 'n mighty in Elf-ville," Reuben interrupted rudely. "Shut up and leave, doxy. Yer bringin' the party down,"

"You try my patience, Human!" Alyndra growled, a magic missile already glowing in her clenched fists. "I am fully capable of doing to you what I have done to many an Orc this day!"

"I killed more 'n you, 'n ya know it, Elf-wench! Do us a favor and fuck off wit' yer milk-blooded Cleric buddy!" he retorted hotly, hand on his hilt.

"Easy!" Cerys interrupted, holding a hand to each lest the argument become a melee. "Ya want the town guard down on us?"

"Pah!" Reuben spat. "Screw all of you!" He grabbed a mug of ale from the counter and walked off before the bartender could protest that it was for another table. He looked darkly at the rest of the party and shook his head, filling another mug. Alyndra's eyes glinted fiercely but she turned to leave.

"I shall meet the two of you, another day, I hope," she glanced at Bryston and Cerys. "Farewell for this time," She headed out, watched by many of the other patrons. Once she had gone, the gazes turned to the remaining party members.

"I believe I must now go as well. Good night, Cerys," Bryston said apologetically.

"Night, Bryston. Hope ya get some backbone one 'a these days," she joked. "Hope we meet again,"

"As do I," the Cleric responded. "May the Lord grant his blessings to your endeavors,"

"Amen ta that," the Huntress agreed, her gaze straying to Reuben as he nursed a drink in the darkest corner of the pub. "By the way, if yer lookin' fer a place ta stay, the Eagle Plume Inn is takin' travellers in,"

"My thanks," Bryston said gratefully, heading out the door. Cerys watched him go before grabbing an ale from the counter herself, though leaving some coins in its place. The bartender gave her an annoyed look but was ignored as she went over to sit with Reuben.

"The hell do ya want?" he grumbled as the Huntress sat down across the table from him.

"Cain't I hang wit' a friend?" she asked innocently, though she ruined the effect with her sly smirk.

"Fuck off, Cerys. Ya ain't ruinin' my off time," the mercenary warned, looking darkly at her with his face turned down.

"Sure, whatever," she said, dismissive, taking a swig of ale. "Ya cen go ahead 'n drink yerself stupid fer all I care. Whatever gets ya outta this murderous mood o' yers,"

"Anyone ever tell ya ya got the su'l'ty o' a polar bear in a coal mine?" he retorted in a gravelly undertone.

"This from the guy that has footsteps that cen be heard a mile away," Cerys rejoined easily.

"Meh..." he took a deep swig of ale and turned his head away.

"So now yer goin' ta get all dark 'n silent, eh?" Cerys took a swig.

"I thought I told ya ta fuck off?" Reuben growled.

"Fine...hope ya die in a ditch, ya bastard," the Huntress snapped, getting up and moving to another table.

* * *

"What is that bastard's problem!" Alyndra nearly broke a fence with a fierce swing of her fist as she stormed down the road, only the Magic Missile she was holding prevented a significant hand injury. "I rescued him from certain doom, I showed utmost loyalty in battle, I shared my knowledge! Angelickdamned son of a motherfucker!" It was a good thing she was ranting in Elvish or there might have been worse repercussions of her foul language.

"U-Um...Alyndra...?" a voice stammered from behind her. She whirled to see Bryston a few paces behind her. So fierce a glare did she fix him with that he staggered backwards, timidity turning to fear. She saw this and quickly softened her expression.

"Bryston. Do you require anything of me?" she asked, weary from the day and her outburst, and sounding quite contrite.

"I j-just wondered if you knew wh-where the inn was," he answered demurely. "Cerys told me of a good place to stay the night,"

"Bryston...I apologize if I have frightened you," the Elf apologized. "I do not typically allow my lesser instincts to intrude on my daily persona,"

"I-it's nothing to feel guilt about. I understand that you are reasonably upset," the Cleric offered a weak smile. "N-now let's find the Eagle Plume Inn,"

"Oh, I descried that locale as we returned from our expedition!" Alyndra responded with a bit of eagerness, less than usual. "It is not far along the road from here. Come!" She took his hand and pulled him up the street with strength surprising for a mage and a tired one at that. They swiftly came to a two-storied building built of oak and with two wings coming off of the main cube of the lobby at diagonals.

The clerk looked up as they entered. She was a plump, middle-aged woman with long brown hair that was drawn back with a bit of cloth. She wore rough-spun cloth in a dress, as most women in this frontier town did. The men typically wore long tunics of the same material, sometimes with a belt. She eyed Alyndra's ears dubiously and scanned the timid Cleric with her.

"Cen I help ya?" she asked.

"Indeed, good lady," Bryston said courteously. "My friend and I require room and board for the night, if any is available," The woman still eyed Alyndra.

"Sure, this's a travellers' inn. Plenty o' vacancies," she answered gruffly. "Ten gold a night 'n ya get supper wit' the room,"

"These terms are quite acceptable," Alyndra answered. "I believe I am able to acquiesce," she fished out ten gold coins and placed them on the counter. Bryston did the same.

"Aye, then you'll be wantin' separate rooms, I'd say," the clerk dug under the desk for a couple of keys.

"Of course," Alyndra explained. "The experience would be quite full of discomfort were I to room with my companion," Bryston nodded, red-faced at the implication. The clerk dropped the coins in a till and forked over two keys, each with a number tag.

"You got Room 32, Elf's got Room 33," she said boredly. "Dining hall's behind me ta the left 'r right, dependin' on the hall ya take, yer rooms 'r down the wing ta the left o' here. Ring the bell in yer rooms if ya need anythin',"

"Thank you," Bryston regained his composure, finally. "May the Lord bless you and yours,"

"Amen," the clerk replied, though wearily and with a grunt. The two set off down the hall, quickly coming to the dining hall. It had quite a few travellers in it already. Bryston sniffed the air, catching the aroma of roasted beef and stewed vegetables. His stomach growled in response. He clapped a hand over it in embarrassment.

"I daresay the provender in this locale is fair enough," Alyndra noted, giving him a comforting smile in an attempt to alleviate his embarrassment. "Let us go and acquire our share,"

"After you," the Cleric held his hands out to allow her through the open door first. The Elf smiled.

"My thanks,"

* * *

Reuben sank heavily into a seat across from Cerys, clutching a tankard of whiskey this time, it was his third one, though the previous two had been ale.

"Oh, look who decided ta bug me after I 'fucked off' like he wanted," the Huntress frowned, cocking an eyebrow. "The hell do ya want?"

"All right, I deserve that," Reuben waved his hand around and giving a roll of the eyes. "I don' mean ta take stuff out on ya, Cerys. Yer okay in my book. That Elf wench, on the other hand..."

"What's wit' ya 'n Elves, anyhow? Obvious it's somethin', else ya wouldn' be lustin' fer Alyndra's chitlins ev'ry time she gets annoyin'," Cerys interlinked her fingers under her chin and stared at him with interest, fighting a clever smirk. Reuben took a deep swig of his drink, groaning at the burning feeling that numbed his throat.

"Elves 'r no good. I been believin' that fer years 'n I ain't 'bout ta stop now," the mercenary declared vaguely.

"She seems okay ta me. Sure, a little green, don't know when ta shut up, at times," Cerys took a drink. "Could go on, but ya get the point,"

"Yeah, well..." Reuben stared off at the fireplace at the end of the room. Their table wasn't too far from it. "It ain't too easy ta just like someone ya hate, ya follow? Bitch just rubs me the wrong way,"

"I noticed," the Huntress responded. "Ya almost got us booted from town twice t'day,"

"Agh..." Reuben drained his mug and rose from the table. "I'm goin' ta turn in. See ya at the Eagle,"

"Kay. Just try ta sleep face-down will ya?" Cerys jested. Reuben gave a grunt that could have been a laugh.

"I'd say the same to you," he went out more peacefully than usual, though not without tripping over a chair.

* * *

"This stew could use a bit of Zyrinimum and Quytie to rouse the flavor of the vegetables," Alyndra commented as she and Bryston ate their dinner at the Eagle Plume Inn. Bryson put down his cup of milk.

"Despite that, it's nice to have some food at the end of a long day," Bryston answered brightly, despite the fact that he had no idea what either of those things were. He assumed they were herbs.

"That it is," the Elf agreed, taking a drink of her milk. "Hmm...the bovine hereabouts lack the proper herbage for a full-bodied milk," The Cleric smiled and shook his head at this.

"Well, I'm sure the farmers will be open to advice, but perhaps another time. They're likely getting ready for bed by now," he said conversationally. "Um...if you don't mind my inquiry, what will you do now? Go back to Tweplund?"

"No, I am rather enamored by Human life. I will likely go and inquire as to what else may need to be done in this hamlet," Alyndra expounded. "Mayhap there are other boons I may bestow upon Oakenrest,"

"Like as not," Bryston laughed. "I may accompany you, though mayhap we might find a task less...violent than the last,"

"Mayhap..." she agreed.

"I bid thee have a good night," Alyndra said as she and Bryston came to their rooms.

"I bid thee so as well," the Cleric replied. "May the Lord bless us with sound and restful repose," They parted and headed into their rooms. The rooms were furnished simply. The beds were sacks stuffed with plume, held by a sturdy wooden frame and complimented with a pillow of like make. A lit candle sat on the bedside table, fashioned of oak, casting a dim light across the room and illuminating a brass hand bell that also sat on the table. There were small adjacent washrooms, equipped with a bucket of water and a basin for washing. Simple curtains of rough cloth covered the two-part windows that were latched and closed. Bryston put down his satchel next to the bed and propped his quarterstaff on the wall near it before washing up quickly in the washroom. That done, he knelt next his bed and began his nightly rites. "Lord bless us children, both those that heed your wisdom and those that need it most. Bring healing to those who need it and judgement to those who also require that. Oh, Lord Angelick, thank you for the powers that you bless us, your servants with, the powers to heal and see good in others. Amen,"

* * *

Alyndra, having discarded her effects and washed up, drew a thick tome from her satchel and began to study by light of the candle that sat on the bedside table. 'I must begin to attain more. I must be able to safeguard myself and others. The altercation with the obese Orc has demonstrated to me, quite clearly, that fundamental magicks will only be of so much use against truly mighty adversaries,' she thought as she pored over the yellowing pages. 'Flaming might...impermeable shadows...mighty air...'

* * *

Reuben whetted, cleaned, and oiled his sword methodically, despite his drunkenness. One false move could cost him a finger, but he still managed to complete the task while still thinking about things that had been buried for some time.

'Elves 'r monsters. I know this firsthand...ta run inta one after all these years...' It almost frightened him how the memories had come back. The instinct to cut someone in half just by seeing pointed ears on their head. He was fortunate that he had managed to clamp down on his reflexes. Though irritating, the Elf wench was no threat to him, unless he riled her, and he had done so, thrice. True she had had it coming by trying to compromise the mission but...he shook his head. He would go back home someday. Go back to the ruins where it began and strike down that pointy-eared bastard. Not now, though. Deep down, he knew he wasn't ready, whatever pride might say. Deep down, he was frightened to death of what had happened, of that figure that radiated fear, that cut down dozens and laughed as he did it, not that he would admit said fear. His sword clattered to the floor as he stood in anger. 'No matter what, I'll not be able ta let go of m' hatred...not as long as that one's alive...the Elf wench is goin' her way, and I'm goin' mine. That's enough. I needn't change.' He retrieved his blade and replaced it in its sheath. Propping it against the wall, he blew out his candle and fell into bed.

* * *

Cerys finished checking her bow and daggers, counting the arrows she had managed to get before the fletcher closed for the night.

'Reuben'll be fine. No sense worryin'. Long as I've known 'im, he's been grumpy, to say th' least. This won't be much different.'

* * *

"Angelickdamnnit!" Reuben raged the next day as he was rudely woken at eleven in the morning by a loud banging on his door, magnified what felt like twenty times by his considerable hangover. "What the fuck!"

"Get up, Reuben!" a familiar voice called through the door, a bit too merry for his liking at the moment. "I got us a job!"

"Fuck ya 'n all your descendants, Cerys!" he yelled, flinching at his own voice as he struggled to his feet and staggered towards the door. "Get m' some damn pain killin' herbs if yer goin' on like this after ya know I been drinkin'!"

"Already done, Mr. Sunshine," she handed a small bundle of greenish herbs and a mug of water to him as he wrenched the door open, looking like death with his bloodshot eyes and drawn pallor. He downed the bitter herbs without relish and chased it with the entire mug of water.

"Fuck, I hate these..." he muttered, clutching his head.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, get yerself into yer gear. We gotta be goin' south o' town, t'day," the Huntress said, a bit softer than before.

"Are ya gettin' me involved in one uh yer huntin' trips ag'in?" he asked darkly, strapping on his sword.

"Well, the thing's s'posed ta be huge, so I thought I might need some backup," Cerys shrugged. "Ya cen handle a bear, right?"

"Ya ask the guy wit' a hangover that..." Reuben shook his head in an attempt to clear his bleary eyes as he clasped on his cloak. "Gimme some breakfast 'n I'll be good," Cerys smirked.

* * *

"So we're to find a goodly amount of Farlaika and other such simples?" Bryston confirmed, translating Alyndra's long-winded and somewhat difficult spiel.

"Indeed," the Elf confirmed as the two of them walked towards the northern gates. "The apothecaries hereabouts will disburse top coin for further supplies, as their own have become rather depleted,"

"Then we shall replenish their supplies," Bryston smiled. "I am glad that doing good needn't include slaughter in all counts,"

"Indeed not," Alyndra responded cheerfully. The guards hailed them as they passed and they replied in like. "Now, the Farlaika we beheld yesterday were not far along the thoroughfare...ah! There they are!" She ran forward, laughing, and stood next to the pink blossoms. The Cleric was glad to see the beauty of the Elf maiden's joy. "My uncle and I would often congregate these simples for his adventures. He would often sustain quite the injuries at times, he being a swordsman and sometimes utterly reckless. He promised that I may travel with him at a later date, however..." A frown creased her face as she became pensive for a moment.

"Alyndra?" Bryston prodded tentatively. She came out of her reverie.

"My apologies. I seem to have digressed into thought," she drew a dagger from under her cloak and carefully began to remove the flowers from the budding plants.

"It's no problem," Bryston shook his head. "Here, let me help," He began to pluck the flowers as carefully as possible.

"No, you'll bruise them," she stopped him gently. "Go over there and get some Misilgin," She pointed to a flowering vine that grew up a nearby tree. "Just the leaves, if you will," She handed him a small, drawstring bag of felt.

"A-Alright," he took the bag and walked off, embarrassed. Alyndra watched him go with a smile and then went back to her work, humming and carefully placing the blossoms in her own felt sack. 'Uncle Elaith...I apperceive you exist still as a part of this moral coil. You must be so.' She shook her head. 'But enough about that unpleasant topic. The sun shines and the smell of grass and flower permeate the air!' The Elf maiden inhaled deeply and smiled. 'It is excellent to be living.'

* * *

Reuben was beginning to shake off his symptoms, at last, as he followed Cerys out of the south gate of Oakenrest. She stooped occasionally, looking at marks on the ground and sometimes sniffing her fingers after running them through the dirt. They turned from the road after the third time this happened.

"Went this way," the Huntress muttered, for Reuben's benefit more than her own. He nodded, sword and shield already in hand. They continued over the grasses and into the underbrush, where many claw marks could be plainly found on a few trees. Cerys searched the base of a few of them before setting off northeast, following a trail that she could apparently see where Reuben didn't. He glanced around, trying to be quiet, though he was not quite adept at this, as was well known, and bears were known for their perception. Cerys paused after a bit, looking one way and another. Pulling out some rope, she grabbed a nearby bendable sapling and made a snare, quickly covering it with leaves. She lead Reuben on after this, slowly making a perimeter and setting up trips and snares. "Hmm...we'll have ta wait," she paused. "He's been all over this area,"

"Great," Reuben complained in a whisper.

"Get in a tree. Wait," Cerys gestured to a nearby tree before climbing one, herself, with ease. Reuben scaled the indicated tree and watched the Huntress ascend to higher branches, scanning the area all the while. 'Odd...he must have a den 'round here that I ain't seen yet.'

* * *

"I believe that we almost have enough," Bryston stated as they finished filling the dozen felt bags that they had been given.

"I concur. We best be withdrawing back to the village," Alyndra agreed, looking back towards where the village was. "Though we must be vacating this lovely wood, before all else," They stowed the sacks away in their satchels and proceeded southwest, back towards the forest's edge. She began to speak of the beauty of the trees in late summer, of the golden flowers of Magevault, the wonders of the sorcerers and wizards that resided there, but she paused as her keen ears caught something. She halted and held out a hand, stopping Bryston.

"What is it, Alyndra?" he asked, his smile fading at her grave and cautious expression.

"I hear something...soft tread. It is not Human, of that I am sure," Bryston looked fearfully around, wondering what horror could be coming up on them. A soft growl issued from behind them. Alyndra grabbed Bryston's arm. "Flee!" She took off, he struggling to keep up with her swift feet. A large black bear, larger than most one would likely ever see, barreled through the undergrowth, giving chase. "Magic Missile!" she aimed a shot blindly backwards and was rewarded with an angry roar and a slight stumble in the footsteps.

* * *

"The hell's that?" Reuben asked at normal volume, hearing the ruckus. Cerys, having heard it far in advance, looked troubled.

"I think some poor bastard's found our mark," she jumped down from the tree, bow at the ready, and nocked an arrow. Reuben jumped down and stepped forward, ready to take action.

"Magic Missile!" a voice shouted from the west.

"Oh, hell no," the Fighter shook his head. Alyndra and Bryston came into view not a moment later, pursued by a large, black form, covered in pelt and roaring furiously. Cerys's arrow flew with a twang, hitting the brute's shoulder and staggering it. Alyndra, seeing the others and the trip trap, jumped the rope gracefully, pulling Bryston with her, somehow. Cerys let fly with another arrow as Alyndra let fly another Magic Missile from her seated position on the forest floor. The bear sprang forward, only to trip on the trip wire and become entangled for a bit as the rope broke. Reuben sprang forward as it struggled, aiming to drive his blade into the beast's skull. A wild swipe managed to catch him across the chest, however, and sent him spinning into the underbrush.

"Bryston, get over there!" Cerys yelled, firing another arrow as the bear came closer to breaking free, flailing around in fearsome anger. Bryston, blanching, crawled quickly away from where the action was hot and to Reuben's prone form.

"Dammit! Someone patch me up!" he complained, getting up gingerly.

"R-Right!" the Cleric put his hands over the ugly gash that had rent the armor asunder. "Cure light wounds!" His hands glowed with a mystical, blue light and the wound did the same before closing most of the way and just becoming a minor cut.

Alyndra rolled out of the way as the bear broke free of the rope and charged at her.

"Magic Missile!" the prismatic bullet of light struck the bear's back and left a painful, round score. Enraged, the bear roared again and charged Cerys, ignoring the arrow that stuck in its shoulder. The Huntress fell backward, striking out with her daggers and managing to slice the bear across the throat. She scrambled away as it thrashed around, and ascended a tree to aim another arrow.

"Did that do it?" Reuben wondered aloud, holding his shield in front of him and eyeing the raging brute with care. Cerys fired another shot into the bear's forehead, finally bringing it to a stop. It slumped over, bereft of energy, and finally breathed its last as it fell with a heavy thud. Alyndra panted for air as the adrenaline of battle wore off, as did Bryston, though he still looked pale. Reuben cautiously prodded the bear with his blade. "Think it's dead, Cerys?" He called to his companion.

"Should be. That was a kill shot," she affirmed. "I don't envy us havin' ta drag this sorry beast back ta Oakenrest, though," The Mercenary shoved his blade through the brute's skull, anyway, to ensure that she was right.

"They want it brought back?" Reuben responded dubiously, pulling his blade free and wiping it. "Ya just brought me fer heavy liftin', didn't ya?"

"Well, ya made a good shield, too," Cerys teased with a smirk, going to retrieve her ropes. It would do no good for some poor animals or people to get caught in them if they were left unattended.

"Pah...you cen make jokes when yer the one gettin' slashed cross the chest..." he grumbled, rubbing at his wound.

"Ah, Bryston cen fix that," she called from a ways off, retrieving another rope, as she waved in the Cleric's general direction. He came over tiredly to use his healing touch to finish mending the wound. "Thanks, ya two. Didn't mean ta get ya involved, but ya saved us,"

"It was an honor to aid my friends," Alyndra replied wearily. Reuben grunted, but decided not to object to the term 'friend', his bloodlust was at a low at the moment.

"Indeed. I must go where I am needed, though I pray that the Lord tells me in advance, in the future," the Cleric agreed, finished with his work.

"Well, Reuben, let's get ta luggin'," Cerys hefted one massive forearm. "Take the other side,"

"Guess askin' sissy boy or the prissy Elf wench are out," he sighed, taking the other forearm. Together, they managed to lift the heavy bulk, if only enough to drag it.

"Screw you too, Human," Alyndra muttered in Elvish as she watched her allies drag the large carcass slowly towards the road.

* * *

Needless to say, the bear attracted a lot of attention when they returned through the south gate.

"Holy shit, that's huge!" one of the guards commented loudly. "And you guys killed it?"

"In a manner o' speakin'," Reuben grunted. "Where do ya want it?"

"Just leave it here. We'll get some guy to handle it," the guard answered. Cerys and Reuben gratefully dropped the cadaver with a heavy thud.

"We'll just be gettin' our pay, then," Cerys commented. Reuben assented with a nod and they headed back to The Crow's Craw, ignoring all the looks drawn from the townspeople from their disheveled and, in the Mercenary's case, damaged appearances. The bar patrons stared no less, but the bartender was, perhaps, the most shocked.

"I'm really startin' ta like ya guys!" he exclaimed, handing over a sack of coin. "Eight hundred in there, counted it m'self," Reuben grabbed it and split the coins in half deftly.

"And you two, did ya get th' herbs?" the bartender turned to Alyndra and Bryston.

"Indeed," she and the Cleric piled their felt sacks on the counter. "And to spare,"

"Great. The apothecaries'll be glad," he handed over a sack of coin. "Two hundred. I'll get a boy ta run these over later," He took the felt sacks and placed them behind the counter.

"I think we're forgettin' some people," Cerys commented pointedly, watching the coins in her friend's hands. Reuben frowned at her for a moment, locking eyes and battling a battle of wills. At last, he grunted, splitting the piles again.

"Fine," he turned to the greenhorns. "You two!" He jerked his head at the two extra piles. "Get yer share a'fore I come ta m' senses,"

"That's very kind of you," Bryston responded. "Bless you!" The Mercenary turned away with a grunt, his share taken.

"Get me an ale, would ya?" he aimed at the bartender, sliding him some gold. He received a mug in exchange.

"I thought less of you, Human, but it seems that even you are capable of showing gratitude," Alyndra remarked coolly, with a straight face.

"Shut up, Elf," he walked away and sat down at a stool a ways away.

"Ya know, since yer so talented, I got a job up in Honeyhorn that ya four might be interested in," the bartender interjected. "They ain't given me no clear detail, but it's tough, by the sound o' it,"

"Hmm...what ya think, Reuben?" Cerys called to him. He looked over, deciding not to pretend that he hadn't been listening.

"As long as it pays," he said shortly, turning back to his drink. "But I'd rather go alone,"

"How about you two?" she turned to the others. "Wanna come ta Honeyhorn wit' us?"

"I have no objection. I yearn to see more of Human civilization. Your customs and ways are quite divergent from those of Elves," Alyndra answered with as much enthusiasm as the exertion of the earlier battle allowed.

"Acts of good can be performed anywhere and I believe the Lord has guided me to you. I will accompany you," Bryston agreed.

"See, now, Reuben. We're all goin'. Are ya gonna just tramp off alone and get yerself killed?" Cerys teased.

"I been workin' alone fer years. Don' patronize me," the Mercenary retorted. "Ya lot would be a pain in th' ass,"

"I suppose that those Orcs merely died from your over-large ego, then?" Alyndra noted dryly.

"No, they died from yer diseases, doxy!" he snapped.

"You son of a-" she nearly released a Magic Missile, but Cerys stopped her.

"Whadda ya got ta lose?" the Huntress appealed.

"M' dignity, m' reputation, m' lunch..." he listed off.

"P-Please. Be reasonable, sir. T-there is nothing wrong with h-having comp-panions," Bryston tried. Reuben let out a raspy sigh.

"Fine, whatever. If ya want ta head up wit' me so bad, so be it," He rose, finishing his drink. "Now I gotta get m' armor fixed, so you'll get it if I leave this little party o' yers," He headed out.

"Well, that went better 'n expected," Cerys sighed with a shake of the head. "Always so stubborn, that 'un," She turned to Bryston. "Ya know, today got me thinkin'...ya ain't got no armor, cloth-boy! Come on!" She grabbed his arm.

"W-What are you doing?" he stammered, fearful.

"We're gettin' ya geared up!" she dragged him out the door, leaving Alyndra feeling a bit awkward.

* * *

 **I hope someone's having as much fun with this as I am. Critiques would be nice.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, finally done. Lots of character development and bad words, but that's to be expected by now. Don't own D &D, obviously. **

* * *

"B-but I am a man of the cloth! Armor w-would ruin my appearance!" Bryston protested as he was pulled roughly down the main thoroughfare of Oakenrest by his left arm, struggling to maintain his hold on his quarterstaff.

"And blood'll stain them pretty robes o' yers," the Huntress responded candidly, ignoring the stares they were attracting. "Trust me, a bit o' armor'll keep ya alive, an' that keeps others alive, ya get me?"

"Y-yes, but..." the Cleric protested. "We're making a scene and..."

"There ain't no tenet 'gainst it, so can it, cloth-boy!" Cerys proclaimed. Bryston decided that it might be better to yield to the more masterful Human and didn't argue further. "Outta the way, Reuben!" Cerys shouted, barely giving the Mercanary enough time to get out of the way. Luckily, he had heard her shenanigans far in advance and was already keeping an eye on her and prepared for this.

'She always does stuff like this.' Reuben frowned to conceal his mild curiosity as the two passed him and barely beat him into the clothier's shop, The Dove's Beak, which was, coincidentally, across from the Eagle Plume Inn. The shop owner, a dumpy man with a scraggly beard and his assistant, obviously his son, as he had the same oblong nose, both started as they burst in.

"Ya guys got any armor fer this guy?" Cerys inquired immediately.

"Uh..." the owner stared blankly for a few seconds before shaking off his shock. "Yeah, sure, maybe...what's yer measurements?" After being given this information, he went into the back and brought out several pieces of leather armor. "'kay, one o' these oughtta fit. Made 'em, but nobody came an' got 'em, see? Ya cen have one o' 'em fer ten gold pieces,"

"C-Cerys, I-I'm not sure I can move in one of these," Bryston renewed his protests as the Huntress shoved one of the pieces into his hands and forced him over to the changing curtain in the corner.

"Nice try, kid, but me 'n Reuben move just fine. Right, Reuben?" she glanced at the Mercenary, who was standing by the door, arms crossed, observing the odd sight before him.

"Leave me outta this, Cerys," he warned, averting his gaze. Having successfully shoved the Cleric in the changing room, the Huntress turned back to the shopkeeper.

"Ya got any gloves fer 'im, while we're at it?" she asked.

"Sure," the owner pulled several pairs out from behind the counter. "Make 'em fer the townsfolk all the time. One gold fer a pair," Cerys nodded, taking a pair and tossing them through the curtain. Bryston exclaimed as they hit him.

"Put 'em on! Yer dainty hands need protectin'," she called.

"Do ya get off on this kinda thing, Cerys?" Reuben questioned bluntly.

"Ya wish," she retorted smoothly.

"Whatever," the Mercenary rolled his eyes and averted his gaze again, hardly surprised that his barb had been deflected.

"I-I look ridiculous," Bryston bemoaned from behind the curtain. Cerys peeked in, causing the Cleric to let out an unmanly shriek.

"Nah, not really, but ya cen always wear ya robe over it if ya ain't happy wit' yer appearance," she pulled her head back out of the room. "Anyway, how good are ya on repairs?" she looked back to the shopkeeper, who looked quite like he didn't know how to handle what he was seeing, nor did his assistant. "Reuben kinda needs his armor fixed,"

"Or replaced, if ya need more 'n a few hours and I'd wager this'll take a bit," the Mercenary approached the counter, gesturing to his ruined gear.

"Oh, definitely," the shopkeeper agreed. "What's yer measurements? I cen likely fit ya in one o' these," he gestured to the remaining pieces of armor on the counter. Reuben grumbled and gave his measurements. "Nope, yer bulkier than that kid. I'll have ta go in th' back again," He gathered up the remaining armor and took it back with him while he searched. Bryston stepped out of the changing room at this point, face flushed and feeling foolish. What if his parents saw him now?

"Not bad, cloth-boy!" Cerys complimented. "Makes ya look less scrawny and ya cen take a hit now!"

"I-If you say so..." he muttered. The shopkeeper came back with another piece of leather armor around this point.

"Last one in this size I got made," he stated gruffly. "Ten gold pieces," Reuben put down the pieces and took the armor. Shoving Bryston aside and causing Cerys to dodge, he went over to the curtain to change. "Now, ya gonna pay, Mr. Cleric?"

"O-Oh, right. H-How much?" he stammered, fumbling for his coin pouch.

"Twelve gold pieces," the shopkeeper reminded dourly.

"R-Right," Bryston fished out the money and put it on the counter. The shopkeeper shoved the money into a till unceremoniously.

"Get the hell out, Cerys!" a shout from Reuben caught their attention as Cerys jerked back from the curtain.

"Nice bod, Reuben," she teased.

"Fuck off!" the Mercenary retorted. Bryston flushed, not sure what he was seeing. Reuben came out of the changing area a moment later, throwing a dark look at the Huntress. He thrust his damaged armor at the shopkeeper. "Ya want this fer scrap 'r somethin'?"

"Uh, I guess I cen give ya a couple gold pieces fer it," the shopkeeper shrugged.

"Deal," they traded money for armor and Reuben headed for the door, moving uncomfortably in his stiff, new armor. 'Gonna have ta break this damn thing in.' He headed out, thinking of nothing more than getting some lunch, some sword practice, and maybe getting a drink afterward.

"So, kid, I think ya need some trainin'," Cerys said casually, as if they hadn't just gone through some odd moments.

"Training?" Bryston repeated apprehensively. "I don't see what-"

"Ya hardly fight back when yer in a rough spot. Ain't good fer yer health," the Huntress insisted, grabbing his arm again. "C'mon! We ain't always gonna be able ta save yer neck!"

'Lord help me!' Bryston begged as he was bodily dragged out of a building a second time.

* * *

Alyndra was feeling a bit dejected as she walked down the main thoroughfare. The local farmers hadn't really shown much interest in her advice about raising their livestock, nor had they seemed to even understand half of what she said. Many had even gotten quite cross and vulgar in their attempts to be rid of her.

'I am actualizing to descry a pattern in these Humans.' she frowned. 'It is little wonder that we Elves do not associate with them overmuch.' She halted after a moment, drawn to the sight of a man making repairs to a building. Not thinking much, she strode over. "Are you a builder? I am most inspirited by the fabrication of the domiciles of this municipality," The man looked down at her like she had two heads.

"The hell y' on 'bout? I jus' nail stuff together. Don't bug me!" he complained.

"But you must cognize somewhat of architecture," the Elf pressed. "Mayhap I may be adequate to-"

"Look, Elf, I ain't gettin' a word yer sayin'! Go bug m' boss! He knows summat o' buildin'!" he jabbed a thumb at a scruffy man, sitting at a nearby workbench and perusing several schematics.

"I still think that we should add a cross-strut..." the architect mumbled.

"Verily, you appear to possess a rudimentary recognition of the construction of domiciles and superstructure," Alyndra began, her usual quick speaking a bit difficult to follow.

"U-Um...yes, I suppose..." the man adjusted his heavy spectacles, unsure. From here, she launched, without ceremony, into a spiel on Elvish construction, ways to compensate for lack of magic, and so on. The architect, obviously, was quite swamped after the first minute. He cast a pleading look at his workmate, but the other man just chuckled and walked off for his lunch break.

"...so it would only be rational to place a beam at..." she continued on, sometimes throwing bits of Elvish into her long-winded monologue.

"N-Naturally..." the architect murmured during a pause for a drawn breath. It was likely that he would be here a while. Maybe his co-worker would bring him some lunch. He snorted. Of course he wouldn't.

* * *

"'kay, Bryston, now hit me wit' that quarterstaff!" Cerys demanded. The two were standing in an open space in the northeast corner of town. Apparently the town guards used it to practice, judging by the lack of grass, scuff marks, fighting circles on the ground, and the burlap sacks in armor, which acted as dummies, on cross-shaped wood fixtures.

"H-Hit you!" the Cleric repeated in genuine alarm. "I d-don't wish to harm you, Cerys!"

"C'mon, kid, grow some balls!" the Huntress smirked. "Y' cain't hit me, anyway! I'll block it!" Bryston still looked unconvinced. "Now swing that thing as hard as y' can!" The Cleric nodded and swallowed hard, hefting the pole into a diagonal position. Cerys set her feet apart and held her arms in front of her defensively. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Bryston swiped at the Huntress with a horizontal swipe. She caught the rounded end of the quarterstaff, though with some effort, and pushed it back with her weight behind it, making him stumble and fall. The staff clattered to the ground and rolled away a foot or two. Cerys shook her head. "Told ya! An' I gave ya lesson one! The enemy'll turn yer attacks on ya if ya let 'em! Not a good idea ta let someone out fer yer liver knock ya flat on yer ass, cloth-boy!" She retrieved his staff with a quick swipe of her hand and helped him up easily with her other hand. She held on to the quarterstaff, though. "'kay, now we'll work on yer footwork. Ya need ta take a step for'ard when ya swing," she demonstrated the proper technique. "This'll help ya brace against a counter hit," She exhibited a sideways shuffle as she jerked the staff in a way that somewhat simulated a deflected blow. "This thing's got reach, so ya just gotta make sure ta make good on that and roll wit' the bad points. Got it?" She handed the staff back. "Now you try, an' keep yer eyes open this time. Good ta keep yer peepers on yer opponent," Bryston nodded, looking a bit braver.

* * *

Reuben watched idly from the other side of the training course as he set up more dummies to be cut to pieces, having decimated a dozen already.

'Don't see th' point in trainin' that milk-blooded coward.' he grumbled inwardly, hearing the twacking noises even at this distance. 'Ain't gonna help, anyway. One good push, an' he's down and dead.' He hefted the last dummy into place and readied his blade. As he proceeded to hack limbs, torsos, and heads from the burlap sacks, he brooded on how easily he had been knocked away earlier. 'Rookie mistake, that. Got showed up, but no Elf 'r Cleric'll outdo me." He adjusted his grip and focused on making his blows more lethal. True, the dummies weren't alive to begin with, but having used a sword for over a decade had honed his sense of what would kill an Orc and what would fell an armored Knight. Soon a dozen more dummies were cut to pieces all around their poles. 'Too bad they cain't fight back. Too easy t' cut 'em up.' He put his blade away. 'An' too bad th' town guard'd take it bad if I cut up their rookies in a trainin' match.' A loud whacking sound drew his attention from his thoughts. He turned to look and repressed a chuckle.

* * *

"Cerys! I-I'm sorry!" Bryston blanched as the Huntress held her head, teeth grit in pain. "I-I'll heal you!"

"Heh, heh...good one, cloth-boy," she commented as scrambled over and began running glowing fingers over her scalp. "If I weren't seein' double, I'd pat ya on th' head,"

"You may have a concussion! Oh, Lord, forgive me, Cerys!" he made the sign of the cross several times.

"Oh, c'mon, kid! I've taken worse hits 'n that!" she put a companionable arm around him. "Don' put yerself through th' ringer!" She released the slightly assuaged Cleric and went over to some nearby dummies. "Let's practice on these fer a bit, though. That really hurt!" Bryston was a bit bewildered that the woman could just shake off being hit in the head so easily and even be amused about it. His parents had strictly discouraged any sort of violence in the Great Monastery. "Hey, you wit' th' stick!" She snapped him from his thoughts. "I wanna see ya clock this dummy in th' head like ya did me! C'mon! Pretend he's 'n Orc an' he's killin' a kid! Get 'im!" Cerys was definitely having too much fun with encouraging violent behavior in the kind young man.

* * *

"I HAVE TO GO!" the architect finally wailed, having finally hit the breaking point. He gathered up all of his blueprints and more or less fled Alyndra's presence. She cocked her head quizzically.

'Humans are quite atypical...' she thought ponderously, watching him go, trailing dust behind him. 'Well, I conjecture that I ought to find something else to undertake...'

"Oh, cool! An Elf!" a brace of kids, younger than six by the looks of them, came running up. "Can ya tell us some stories, Miss Elf?"

"She's so pretty!" a girl whispered to the other girl next to her, though Alyndra's ears caught it easily. She beamed at the youths.

"I would be overjoyed to acquiesce your solicitation," she replied. "Come, let us find an acceptable locale to ensconce," She was given a few confused looks. "That seems acceptable," She pointed to a tree, not far behind the building they were next to. Conveniently, there was a smoothed rock sitting in the shade of it. The area was quite lush and grassy. Leading the group over, she settled down on the rock, gesturing to the children to seat themselves before her.

"Tell us a story 'bout a dragon 'n a Paladin!" one of the kids demanded happily.

"Very well. I shall proclaim the parable of Sorfildor Beihana and the egregious wyrm, Cithyth," she declared. The kids may not have understood some of the words she used, but the tale was gripping. The Paladin traveled many leagues through the desolation around the mountain where the horrid monster lived, fending off all manner of evil before finally confronting the beast in the ruins of Thelana Serin and fighting with it for three bitter days and nights. Finally, the monster was thrown down, but Sorfildor had been badly wounded and grievously burned. Though he held on with the powers of healing gifted to him, the Paladin failed to make it back home to see the joy he had brought Tweplund with the dragon's defeat. The kids gasped, screamed, and cried at all the right parts and Alyndra was quite happy that to have found a willing audience.

"What happened to his family?" a girl asked.

"They lived on happily, though saddened by the passing of Sorfildor, and took pride in his sacrifice for all of Elf-kind," Alyndra answered. "His son became a Paladin, just as he, and advanced to perform miraculous deeds," Long was the time that she answered questions pertaining to the story and that, in turn led to other stories. It wasn't long until the children were, at last, called away, by their parents shouting for them to come back and get started on their evening chores. There were some complaints, but Alyndra just chuckled. "The teachings of your parents are crucial, indeed. You best take heed of them, so that you may become satisfactory, responsible adults, yourself, one day," This seemed to placate most of the youths.

"Bye, Miss Elf!" most of the kids said in some variation or another.

"I hope I grow up to be as beautiful as you!" the girl from earlier commented, blushing.

"I am confident you shall," the Elf smiled, waving at the retreating youths. She sat on the rock for a while, feeling the wind blow through her hair. It was quite relaxing, and the smell of the grass was exquisite. Unfortunately, she had little time left for practice of her craft, as she could tell by the westering sun. There were several new spells that she needed to experiment with to see the correct way to utilize them. With a wistful sigh, she rose and headed off to find a suitable area to train.

* * *

Bryston sat down heavily, exhausted after the fight with the bear and the hours of training. Sweat poured down his face and his robe was drenched. Cerys handed him a leather flask of water. He gratefully downed the contents, too tired to verbally thank her and contenting himself with a nod.

"Ya did real good, kid, though ya might wanna use some o' that magic o' yers ta help wit' how sore you'll be tomorra," Cerys smirked proudly, rubbing at the bruises she had managed to get when they had moved back from the dummy to sparring. "Maybe I'll get out m' knives, next time! Then we'll be trainin'!"

"N-No, that's okay," Bryston managed to stammer. The prospect of getting stabbed wasn't an appealing one. Cerys shrugged.

"Well, anyway, let's go get some grub. That jerky we had fer lunch's long gone by now," she stretched, wincing at her bruises. Bryston struggled to his feet, leaning on his staff, and made his way over.

"Please. Let me help," he ran his fingers over the blackened spots, slowly returning them to normal. The Huntress waited until he was nearly done before making her teasing remark.

"I know ya must wanna feel m' muscles, but I don' think a Cleric's sposed ta be doin' that kinda stuff," she grinned at his immediate flush. He staggered away, nearly falling over again.

"W-What! N-No! I w-wasn't..." he seemed quite panicked by her insinuation. Cerys chuckled for a bit at his expense. This confused him even more.

"Calm down, cloth-boy, I'm kiddin'," she patted his shoulder casually. "'Sides, if ya did pull somethin' 'n I di'n't want ya to, ya'd know," Bryston nodded nervously, imagining all the ways she could horribly injure a person without even using a weapon. "Now, let's get back ta th' inn!" She led the way, mercifully not dragging him this time.

'If this is part of doing good in the world, I have to wonder if I'll ever make the cut...' the Cleric thought as his limbs protested every movement. The Huntress seemed hardly fatigued at all, in comparison, though she was keeping her pace slow for his sake, something he was grateful for.

* * *

Having finished his training and tuned his equipment up, Reuben was at his typical hangout, the pub. Their food wasn't too bad, if you had low standards, and the whiskey really helped make you not care, regardless.

'At least I'll finally be gettin' outta this dump, come tomorrow.' He thought as he bit into the tough cut of meat that he had been served alongside some overcooked vegetables and the usual scones the tavern sold all day. 'Maybe those other losers'll fall in a ditch 'r chicken out. Cerys's bad enough.' He poured more whiskey into his tankard from the flagon that sat on the table. 'Speakin' o' which, she ain't here. Must still be wit' that wussy-ass Cleric. Meh. Don't need 'er.' He took a swig of his drink and let out a breath. 'Goes down smooth. 'Course there'll be better stuff up in Honeyhorn, I'd wager. Just wonder what that job is...bartender don't really know an' that strikes me a bit odd.' He shrugged inwardly. 'Whatever. Find out when I get there. That's m' way.'

* * *

Alyndra returned to the Eagle Plume Inn, smelling of singed burlap and looking a bit windswept. The weather was rather fine, though. This was a result of practicing her new spells. She was rather hungry and rather tired as well. On top of that, she needed a bath, badly. She wondered where the Humans bathed in these cities.

'In Tweplund, there exist bathhouses that utilize waterfalls and large basins, though I possess misgivings about any such place existing in this locale.' she headed to the dining area, giving the receptionist a cheerful, if weary, greeting, despite the stare she was being given.

"Oh, Alyndra, hey!" Cerys greeted her from a table as she stepped in, drawn by the fragrence of stew, cheese, and bread. "Good ta see ya!" Other guests gave odd looks at this remark, as most of them saw no reason to be happy to see an Elf. Fortunately, they kept their opinions to themselves, though a few left, choosing to partake of their food in their rooms.

"Greetings, Cerys. It has been a protracted day, has it not?" she managed a smile, looking over to Bryston. "What is amiss, Sir Cleric?"

"Oh, I've just been lettin' him beat on me half th' day," the Huntress replied nonchalantly. "I should be more tired 'n 'im," The Elf gave a look that clearly indicated that she was unsure of what the first comment meant. "I bin trainin' 'im," Cerys added, seeing the look. "Looks like ya bin trainin' a bit yerself. Ya should go get some food 'fore it's all gone," Alyndra realized her hunger once more and hastened to get her share of the fare. She returned quickly, sitting down as Bryston struggled not to nod off. He ultimately failed and slumped against the Huntress, snoring softly.

"Mayhap you were somewhat overeager in your training concourse," Alyndra noted as she daintily took in her edibles, smiling in spite of herself.

"Nah, I took it easy on 'im, though 'e might not think so," Cerys's usual clever smirk was still in place. "Kinda worth it, though. He's plum cute when 'e's all tuckered out like this," The Elf gave her an odd look. "What?"

"You do not convey the impression to me of the variety of person that would produce such admissions," Alyndra explained.

"Jus' cuz I don't talk purty an' I kill stuff fer a livin' don' mean I ain't got some qualities of a woman!" Cerys mock-scolded. "Reuben's even summat handsome when he gets that stick outta 'is ass!" Alyndra looked skeptical at this. "Well, maybe I'm exaggeratin'..." she stifled a yawn with her free hand. "Anyway, I'd better lug this kid up t' 'is room an' get m'self cleaned up,"

"May I inquire to where the baths are?" The Elf questioned.

"Behind th' inn. There's a bathhouse back there, though there's a line, usually," the Huntress easily picked the Cleric up, ignoring the looks she got, and carried him from the room. "'Night!" she called over her shoulder. She strode up the hallway, looking at the key that she had managed to get from his pocket. '32...let's see...' She found it quickly enough, even with Bryston snuggling into her shoulder. 'I'd think he'd be repulsed by m' smell...oh, well.' She unlocked his door and kicked it open before she walked in and put him down on the bed. 'He's gonna be sore in the morning.' She shook her head as she pulled off his gloves and boots, deciding that the armor could stay on because she was already feeling awkward enough. She locked his door before throwing the key on the bedside table and blowing out the candle. "'Night, Bryston," she called before closing the door and heading off for a bath.

* * *

Needless to say, Alyndra wasn't too happy about the difference between this small town bathhouse and the grand ones of Tweplund. Due to the nature of being a one-at-a-time affair and there being a line, one had five minutes, tops, to get themselves clean before complaints started. Cerys showed up and warned her beforehand, so she discovered this the easy way, but that didn't stop long-winded complaints. Fortunately, most others in the line were in the same thought train of grumbling so little ill came of said complaints. "Quick soak's all most o' us need," Cerys commented as they waited at the twenty-third and twenty-fourth spot in line. "Sounds, to me, that yer bathhouses in Tweplund 'r fer relaxin', not straight bathin',"

"Has it not occurred to this inn that they may require more accommodations?" Alyndra inquired with a small frown.

"Doubt they cen put down th' money fer it," the Huntress shrugged. "Oakenrest ain't 'xactly a sprawlin' city, 'lyndra," The Elf crossed her arms unhappily. "Further east, odds are ya might find a big bathhouse fer relaxin', but not here, kid," Alyndra laughed at the moniker.

"I have reached one hundred and nine years of age. From comparison, I would be within rights use such an appellation on _you_ ," the Elf jested.

"Hmm..." Cerys raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Ya don' look that old, but that's Elves, fer ya. Some people don' like it, envious, I say, but jus' th' way we are. Y' age slower an' we make do wi'out magic," Alyndra looked a bit reproachful.

"Truthfully, I possess no quarrels with the Human way of life," the Elf admitted. "I simply appreciate drawing comparisons for the end of study. As I have aforesaid, your kind fascinates me. You live such shorter lives than my kind, nevertheless your ingenuity allows you to be just as strong and proud. It is little wonder that our two kingdoms have never overthrown the other,"

"Yer makin' me blush," Cerys scratched her head nervously. "Humans ain't all that great..."

"I perceive that you are deflecting embarrassment, so I will cease with this line of conversation," Alyndra smiled.

"Well, I'd make a speech praisin' Elves, but I'm sorry ta say I ain't never been ta Tweplund," the Huntress responded companionably. Of course, this started another spiel on the Elven kingdom. 'Whoops. Oh, well. Least I got somethin' ta distract from th' line...'

* * *

"Angelickdamn th' one who thought fuckin' hangovers were a good idea!" Reuben screamed, the next morning, knocking over his bedside table with an angry kick and sending his candle toppling, as well as his sword and armor, one of which had been on the table and one of which had been leaning next to it. He gripped his foot, cursing some more under his breath, before rising with his head clutched in his hands, fighting off the mother of all headaches and the mass disorientation that came with loud noises and a hangover. The fact that he wasn't a morning person didn't help. He probably wouldn't have this problem if he didn't drink so much, but he was a mercenary and a man grown and he would just say a few choice words if you were to tell him this.

"Sounds like yer up," Cerys called through the door, having woken him up with a harsh pounding on the door.

"Fuck yer cheeriness, Cerys!" he growled, lowering his voice this time to try and not make himself have another dizzy spell from sheer overwhelmed senses. "Why the hell cain't ya wake people up like a normal bitch, eh?" He wrenched the door open. Unlike him, she was fully geared up.

"'Cause, Reuben, a normal bitch would prob'ly be in th' bed wit' ya," she grinned. The Mercenary would have decked her, but nausea hit him in full force and he sprinted to the washroom. Cerys cringed slightly at the disgusting splattering and retching noises, glad that she had foregone the bar the previous day. Not that she wasn't up for a drink, but she put away nowhere near the amount of the mercenary, out of prudence. Sure, she could drink a lot of people under the table, but she liked to be on top of things the next day. She smirked at the time she had beaten some arrogant son of a bitch at his own game. It was also fun teasing Reuben afterward about 'having his way with her', even though he had uncharacteristically dragged her back to the inn and chucked her in the bed with a bucket next to it. 'Maybe I should be feelin' guilty...' she thought as she reviewed her supposed repayment of the debt.

"Fuck it, Cerys, where are the herbs and why's it still dark out!" the Mercenary called from the other room.

'On th' other hand, he's a bastard.' she shook her head and went in, nose wrinkled from the stench of vomit, to hand the herbs over.

* * *

Bryston wasn't having a fun morning either. His muscles finally woke him up with the sheer pain of soreness.

'Of course, I didn't heal this before...' he paused in the thought. 'When did I get back here? I remember nodding in the dining room...' Twinges of pain in his prone body reminded him that he might want to conjure up some healing magic of some sort. To top it off, there was a knock at the door.

"Sir Cleric? Cerys has tasked me with arousing you from your slumber," Alyndra called through the door.

"R-Right," Bryston tried to keep the pain from his voice as he feebly moved an arm to begin using his healing touch. This, though, would be more like a healing full-body massage. It was nearly impossible to move. "I'll be out shortly,"

"Very well. I shall inform Cerys, if inquiries are contrived," the Elf replied before, he assumed, leaving. Her footsteps were so soft it was hard to tell.

'Cerys meant well, but mayhap I should decline her next training session.' He whimpered as he tried to run the soreness from his other shoulder, putting a lot of burning pain in his right one.

* * *

"Seven! Fuckin' seven o' clock, Cerys!" Reuben shook her by the collar out front of the inn. A bit of breakfast and pain herbs hadn't curbed his bad mood, though the hangover had kept him from gauging the time 'til he had finally asked. "Y' know I don' get up this Angelickdamn early, ever!"

"We gotta get started early, ya binge-drinkin' bastard!" she freed herself from his grip easily enough. "Honeyhorn's a good step away,"

"Why cain't we just fuckin' rent some damn horses!" the Mercenary barked, wincing at his own voice and putting a hand to his head.

"They ain't got no 'damn horses'," Cerys retorted coolly. "If ya'd paid attention ta th' town, ya'd know that!"

"Fuck off! I ain't here on a damned tour!" he snapped.

"Oh, shut up and get yer ass sobered up!" she forced a water bottle at him. "Well's next ta th' inn." She jabbed a finger in the general direction.

"Oughtta kill yer ass..." he grudgingly wandered off unsteadily.

'Dunno whether ta hope he falls in an' drowns 'r not...' Cerys shook her head, frowning at his receding image.

* * *

Bryston finally managed to get upright and began rubbing his hands on his legs when another knock sounded.

"Are you in need of assistance?" Alyndra called. "A significant amount of time has passed and you have not emerged from your chambers,"

"O-Oh, I'm fine. I just need to-," he let out a little yelp. "finish driving the soreness from my limbs,"

"I understand," she acquiesced. "I shall abide at this locale, should you require anything. I am...disinclined to be in the proximity of Reuben at this moment," Bryston knew what she meant. The Mercenary was likely hung over and that would not be pleasant to behold. He was done with his legs soon enough and finally managed to get out of bed. His armor was uncomfortable and he wondered why he was lacking his gloves and boots, but not it. He realized then, blushing, that it would have required removing his robe to remove the armor. He may have had a slip of sorts under the robe, but it was still embarrassing. Who had brought him back, though? He washed up and donned his gear before finally opening the door. Alyndra was singing to herself quietly in Elvish. She glanced over as the door opened and smiled. "Good morning, Sir Cleric! It is beautiful out. The sun ascends over the fields, turning grey to green and the wind blows its comforting embrace with the coming of the celestial light!"

"I-Indeed," he was unsure if he would ever become used to her long-winded spiels. She paused and sniffed.

"Hmm...I suppose you _did_ lose consciousness preceding the opportunity to cleanse your exterior of its daily filth," Alyndra observed. Bryston flushed for the second time that morning.

"I-I...My apologies!" he bowed his head.

"Do not fret, Sir Cleric. I shall conduct you to the bathhouse. The queue, forthwith, is virtually nonexistent," the Elf took him by his free hand. Graciously, she didn't drag him like Cerys and his face reddened again at the smoothness of her hand. The Elves were called the fair folk for a reason.

"P-Please call me B-Bryston, Lady Elf," he stammered.

"Agreed, however pray do not bestow upon me the byname of Lady Elf," Alyndra answered candidly. "It would be...untimely,"

"Wh-Why?" the Cleric inquired.

"It is atypical of a female Elf to attain the sobriquet 'Lady' until she is, at least, four hundred years of age," the Elf maiden answered nonchalantly.

"F-Four hundred!" he had forgotten that she must not be as young as she looks and that Elves lived much longer. It was odd. She didn't put off the aura of being much older than himself.

"I am only one hundred and nine years of age. There is no requirement for concern," she looked mildly worried at his reaction.

"Y-Yes, but...I..." he stammered. "I thought th-that you were m-my age!" She looked thoughtful.

"I suppose, physically, this is true of me, though that is a consequence of a significantly more gradual aging mechanism," she stopped walking and Bryston realized that they were behind the inn. "We have arrived," she gestured at the building. "There is a fire-based heating device within, a kettle, and several wooden buckets of water. I shall reunite with you in front of the inn," She smiled and walked back inside.

'This building looks much less comforting than the baths at the Great Monastery were...' he thought. Looking inside proved his misgivings. It was dark, cramped, and the wooden tub wasn't very large, either. Small rectangular holes allowed a bit of light and burnt stubs of candles were by the door, on either side. Sighing, he went inside and barred the door.

* * *

"The hell's takin' th' others!" Reuben snapped. It was nearing eight-thirty. "Woke me at the motherfuckin' crack of dawn an' them damned greenhorns 'r takin' fer bloody ever!" Cerys had long since stopped trying to calm him down. Once the hangover was gone, he would go back into moody, but pragmatic silence.

"Alyndra's been up almost long as me, sent her ta wake up cloth-boy. We're waitin' on 'im," the Huntress replied evenly, arms crossed. Even her cheerful mood could be grated down a bit.

"Sure the Elf bitch even woke 'im up?" the Mercenary growled. "Sore kid's gonna be Angelickdamn slow ta rise, anyway, no thanks ta you,"

"You'll be eatin' them words when he saves ya from more'n a scratch, one o' these days," Cerys declared.

"Doubt it," Reuben snorted, turning away with arms crossed. "Not 'less the damned coward gets killed ta take a hit fer me, which's more likely," Cerys rolled her eyes. Alyndra and Bryston came out of the inn, smelling of food, not a moment later.

"Oh, thank th' Lord Angelick!" the Huntress exclaimed. "Y' don' know how annoyin' it is ta hang out wit' this guy!"

"I wa'n't m' decision, 'member?" Reuben reminded gruffly. "Yer the dumb fucks that wanted ta come wit' me," He turned. "Now, c'mon, afore I kill the Elf doxy fer a warm-up," He tramped off. Alyndra, livid, was about to peg him with a Magic Missile to the back, but Bryston interrupted.

"I-It wouldn't be right," he protested. Alyndra gave a sharp exhale through her nose and lowered her arm.

"I suppose it would not," she admitted, shaking her head.

"Are ya two comin' or not?" Cerys called from down the road.

"Y-Yes!" Bryston hurried off after her.

"Indubitably!" Alyndra did the same.

Few were the people awake to see them off, not that most of them cared. Most of the adults had been annoyed by Alyndra and intimidated significantly by Reuben, though they did give Bryston a bow of respect, as he was a Cleric and that held some honor, even in these parts. The children had just gotten up for their chores, and it was they that gave the louder shouts of farewell to Alyndra. She smiled and waved back at them, shouting a wish of good fortune in Elvish. The parents reprimanded the kids once the party was out of sight, as associating with Elves was not socially acceptable. The gates came into view, at length. The guards were just opening them to traffic, as they did every morning.

"Leaving, then?" one of them asked. Reuben gave a curt nod and kept going.

"Indeed, good defenders, we depart to do good in the metropolis of Honeyhorn!" Alyndra declared.

"Honeyhorn, eh? Well, be careful. Even with the Orc bandits dead, there's a whole mess of 'em over in Tweplund, in Orc Mountain Pass. Could be some'd waylay ya on th' road. Angelick keep you,"

"Angelick keep you," Bryston answered with a bow. The two hastened to catch up with Cerys and Reuben as they headed down the tree-lined road, knowing, in their hearts, that they were walking towards greater challenges, but they would meet them as they came and be the stronger for it.

* * *

 **Bryston's so nice and docile, makes me laugh writing it. Didn't really intend for them to stay in town the whole chapter, but we got some nice moments, so it's good. Critiques would be nice.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Still don't own D &D and the language warning is pretty serious this time. Of course, it's pretty justified, considering...**

* * *

The party traveled briskly north along the road, the early Autumn breeze caressing their faces with its mild warmth. Alyndra began to chatter on about what she had learned in town and what she knew of the building and farming techniques she had observed there and how they could be improved. As they passed the Fairlaika from before, some blossoms already beginning to replenish themselves, she sidled unceremoniously into apothecary and the use of herbs and simples. Bryston listened with interest, as he was inclined to learn of methods of healing.

"Yeah, it's real nice ta hear some o' th' Elvish ways o' makin' medicine," Cerys added amist the spiel. "I'm a dab hand at meds, just ask Reuben," He gave a dissuading grunt. "But yer methods sound better," The Elf smiled at this.

"The great apothecary, Faraine Qiroris, disbursed six hundred years of her lifetime in the examination of the subject," Alyndra explained. "Thus did she determine that, when integrated with the proper solvents, a paste could be produced that-" Reuben ignored the speech, having come a bit out of his hangover and given his attention to the road. The threat of Orcs had not escaped his mind. They were passing the spot where he had fought off Orcs the previous day, as it happened, but no sign of their having been there were to be found, save a dark spot on the road from their blood. He gave a grim smirk of pride.

"Looks like they ain't come back 'ere," Cerys observed, also noticing the bloodstain.

"'Course not, bastards 'r dead," Reuben replied shortly.

"The guards warned of more," Bryston interjected worriedly.

"Of course. The Orc Mountains are aptly named, as they are the habitation site to several subterranean Orc metropolises," the Elf maiden added. "When last I heard, there was an artery that passed through from Tweplund to Falo and there is no stronghold to waylay them,"

"True enough," Cerys agreed. "There's a crossroads that'd be perfect fer jumpin' travellers. Wouldn't be surprised if that's what happens," Bryston looked uneasy at this. Reuben gave a short bark of a laugh.

"Good. I need ta practice m' new strikes on flesh, anyway!" he proclaimed boldly.

"I cannot perceive how Humans survive bearing such arrogance," Alyndra sighed. Reuben spun, the business end of his sword quickly too close for comfort.

"Shut th' fuck up, Elf doxy! I don't got no qualms wit' guttin' ya!" he snarled.

"I accept your challenge, Human libertine!" fire danced around her fingers as she jumped back and prepared to fight.

"Knock it off!" Cerys barked, walking between them. "I'll put a feather in both o' ya if ya start fightin'!"

"I-I agree with Cerys," Bryston appended. "We must not murder one another. It is the Lord's will," Reuben scanned the overwhelming opposition before turning, flipping Alyndra off, and heading angrily down the road. Cerys frowned, still holding a hand out to stay the Elf, and watched him go.

"This's becomin' a real pain," she commented with some bitterness. "I'd love ta take 'im down a peg m'self, but I kinda owe 'im," Alyndra hid her teeth, finally allowing her spell to disappate.

"Is that the rationale behind your tolerance of that..." she added a word in Elvish that was quite impolite. "What obligation would engender such steadfastness of such boorish demeanor?" Cerys looked at her in a gauging fashion.

"Well, ta put it simply, he saved m' life," she shrugged. "He's always been there fer me, since we met, though he's a bastard. I ain't gonna disagree wit' ya there. Always said it was in his contract, too, when I called 'im on it. Buncha bullshit, though. Ain't no job we take as says that ya gotta save th' others sent wit' ya,"

"I am skeptical. The man we have travelled and fought with and alongside for the preceding two days would not even bolster a starving dog, much less deliver someone from undeniable doom," Alyndra frowned.

"I was raised to see good in everyone, Alyndra," Bryston cast in. "He has protected us, no matter the harm he has threatened us with,"

"An' half th' times he bit yer head off, ya kinda had it comin," the Huntress added. "He's a pragmatist, first 'n foremost. Put 'im in danger wit' carelessness, he's ain't gonna like it. Ya were makin' too much noise when we were trackin' the Orcs. I couldn't hear shit an' neither could nobody else, an' they coulda heard us, what's more,"

"Regardless, his backlash was much too extreme," the Elf responded stubbornly.

"Yes," Bryston smiled apologetically. "It was,"

"An' will be," Cerys shrugged. "He ain't had a cushy life, girl. Don't know th' whole thing, but a rough n' tumble group o' mercenaries called th' Rough Blades raised 'im fer a good number o' years. That group's no saints. He musta had a rough time wit' 'em,"

"U-Um...I hate to interrupt, but Reuben could be in trouble again," the Cleric interrupted gently.

"Probably, if I know 'im, an' I do," the Huntress sighed. "Let's go see if I'm right," Alyndra looked pensive, still, but nodded and set off with them.

'I still find it difficult to accredit. He has displayed naught but anger and hatred from the moment our troop incorporated.' the Elf pondered. Cerys pricked her ears and scanned the ground for footprints occasionally as they went.

"At least he's easy to track," she muttered. "Alyndra!" she glanced back at the Elf. "Do ya hear anythin'?" She tilted her head, focusing on the surroundings.

"Naught but the creaking of the trees and the whispers of the wind, besides his thundering footfalls," she returned.

"I pray that he will have no ill befall him," Bryston commented, tracing a cross across his chest a couple of times.

"In th' mood he's in, he'll likely attack th' first thing 'e sees," Cerys rolled her eyes. "Not the smartest sometimes,"

"H-How did he manage to s-save your life, Cerys, if you don't mind my a-asking?" Bryston inquired.

"It's a long one," she shook her head. "We'd best move while I tell it if we're gonna catch up," She stayed quiet for a bit as they went, easily outpacing the other two with her Ranger speed. "Well, we were up in th' wooded mountains 'round Sleetgarde, while it was still there, anyway...an' we were ambushed by the poachers we'd been sent ta put an end ta...they ain't never been kind ta 'em up north, so they wa'n't 'bout ta let witnesses get away..."

Flashback

"Oh, shit! Who th' bloody 'ell 'r you, eh!" several arrows flew towards Reuben and Cerys. Both ducked behind a tree. Cerys returned fire and felled one of them.

"You'll pay fer that!" another poacher shouted. Reuben jumped out and cut one of them in two as they attempted to round the trees. An arrow bounced off of his shield as he cut another one through the side and tripped him into the ravine behind him and into the rushing water below. Cerys downed two more with rapid shots as Reuben disarmed and cut down three more. The Huntress was caught by surprise as three large brutes jumped from the underbrush and attacked her with axes, cleaving her bow in twain.

"Fuck!" she ducked and stabbed one in the leg, making him kneel in pain, and dodged, tricking one of his mates into splitting his skull. Reuben cut down three more, impaling the fourth and withdrawing the blade to cut his throat before kicking him down. Cerys kicked the legs from underneath another brute and knifed his throat, but this left her open to be punched over her kill and into the ravine, herself.

"Cerys!" Reuben ducked an axe stroke from another poacher and gave him a fatal diagonal cut across the torso. The Huntress fell down the rocky slope, dazed. Luckily, her leg snagged on a vine and she ended up coming to a halt with a sickening snap, a dozen feet down. The water was still two yards away, but she could feel the cold spray. The poacher at the top aimed his longbow, intending to finish her off, but he suddenly found himself lacking a head. He slumped over and fell past her, first head, then body. "Dammit, Cerys! Are ya down there?" If she didn't know better, she'd say that the asshole she had been working with was worried, though he still sounded quite cross.

"Yeah! Good fer you, huh? Now ya get ta hog all th' reward fer yerself!" she called up, glaring at him and feeling that a parting shot would do her no harm before death. The vine was already weakening.

"Cen ya climb up?" he called, face pinched in temper.

"Hell, no! I got a Angelickdamned dislocated hip, ya dumbass bastard!" she screamed back, in too much pain to care.

"Fuck!" he grunted, the word magnified by the ravine. He looked around and spotted Cerys's discarded pack. Desperate, he dug through it before finding a long coil of rope. He looked at it contemplatively for a moment before rushing over to a tree, slipping in the snow, and fixing it tight round the trunk. He fixed the other end round himself and rushed back to the edge. "Ya still there?" Cerys was surprised, thinking he had left.

"Where th' fuck would I go?" she retorted. "'Course I won't be here much longer. Vine's 'bout ta snap!"

"Dammit! I'm comin'!" he hopped over the edge and began to repel down, carefully, but attempting to hurry at the same time. Cerys was overcome with sudden affection. This brusque stranger that she had randomly met in a pub and joined up with for a simple mission was risking himself to save her stupid ass.

"Hurry up! I ain't got long!" True enough, the vine was fraying significantly, even with her trying to limit movement. Reuben gauged the distance and dropped farther than was wise, barely managing to stop near where the Huntress was trapped.

"Here!" he hopped close. "Grab m' shoulders!" She painfully struggled to acquiesce his request. Once he was sure she had a secure grip, he gave a jerk and the vine broke the rest of the way.

"Fuck!" Cerys screamed in his ear. "I got a sprained hip, asshole!"

"How th' hell else was I s'posed ta break it!" he snapped. "Now shut the hell up an' let me climb back up 'r we'll both be in a watery grave!" It took much strength, but the Mercenary managed to haul both of them back up, bit by bit, until they reached the top of the cliff. He gently moved backwards to let Cerys rest against a tree. "Fuck these Angelickdamn poachers..." he spat bitterly on one of them.

"That's nice, but I got a bloody sprain here!" the Huntress snarled.

"Tsk..." Reuben looked at the gruesome improper shape of her hip. "An' ya want _me_ ta be th' one ta pop it back, eh?"

"No, but it fuckin' hurts to bloody hell!" she snapped. "Jus' do it!" the mercenary grumbled, putting a hand on a hip and wrapping the other around her leg.

"Brace yerself," he warned before shoving the joint back into socket with a pop. Her scream echoed throughout the woods and she instinctively decked him backwards onto his butt. "What the hell!" he clutched his face.

"It hurt," she answered simply, gasping for breath.

"Obviously..." Reuben shook his head. "Well, cen ya walk, 'r do I gotta lug ya back ta town?" The Huntress defiantly stood up, wobbling a little, shaking her head.

"I'm fine..." she claimed, her eyes a bit unfocused. Reuben looked at her skeptically and handed her pack back to her.

"Like hell. Even I cen tell ya got concussion. Bastard hit ya in th' head," he answered with a frown.

"I cen make it back. I ain't weak!" Cerys snapped. Reuben raised an eyebrow.

"That's fer sure," he rubbed his cheek. "Fine. Walk wit' me," he turned. "Jus' tell me if ya need some help. Ain't no point in ya fallin' back in th' ravine," Cerys blanched a little at that and took a few unsteady steps away from said ravine. They trudged back south, towards the road, struggling a bit on the rocky terrain. Cerys would, normally, have been much better at picking a path, but lagged behind, seeing blurry, double shapes and trying to shake it out of her head. Reuben stopped when he heard a thud and turned to see that she had bumped into a tree. "I hope ya meant ta do that,"

"Fuck off..." Cerys muttered. The Mercenary sighed and walked over to her.

"Excessive pride afore a steep fall," he quoted.

"Like yer one ta talk," she retorted. Reuben frowned again.

"We ain't gettin' back like this," he grabbed her and picked her up.

"Put me down, ya bastard!" she beat on his head, or, at least, tried to, but she missed most of her attacks.

"If somethin' else comes along, yer worm bait wi'out me, wench," he couldn't keep a hint of smugness from his voice.

"I'll get ya back fer this..." she grumbled, calming down, albeit not without annoyance. "Won't take long, th' way ya charge inta things,"

"Yeah, whatever. This's contract, that's all. Cain't let m' partner die. Very specific that was, doxy," he grumbled, keeping his gaze averted. The Huntress knew he was full of bull, but rested her head against his shoulder all the same, making him flinch.

"Di'n't know ya were such a hero," she teased with a smirk that would come to be common in his presence in the future. "I might jus' swoon like in a fairy tale,"

"I'll drop ya in a snowdrift if ya don't clam up," he threatened, though he was likely not serious.

End Flashback

"I would never have expected that from someone like Reuben," Bryston said, awed.

"He never talked 'bout it again, but we got along better after that," the Huntress commented, scanning the ground to make sure they were on the right trail. "Ya guys jus' keep seein' 'is bad side's all,"

"And I shall maintain my view of this side as long as I am an Elf," Alyndra said sadly. "I do not yearn to be adversaries with anyone, but it was not my accord,"

"I don't understand. Everyone is equal in the Lord's eyes. Why must hatred persist between races?" the Cleric lamented.

"People don't always like each other. Think that's just gotta be th' way it is," Cerys sighed. "Ain't no progress wi'out differences an' wit' differences come dis'greements 'n hate," She paused. Alyndra looked towards the tree-line ahead. It was the sound that they had feared; metal on metal and shouts.

"Those're Orcs, or I've never heard 'em!" Cerys raced off, leaving the other two to sprint after.

* * *

'The fuck's their problem!' Reuben raged, hurrying along the road faster and louder than was wise. 'Th' doxy insulted me! I had ta defend m' honor!' He cut a branch out of his way brutally, making it clatter onto the road. 'The bloody hell's Cerys thinkin', lettin' a filthy Elf an' a Cleric wit' barely a taste o' battle tag wit' us! We're gonna get killed 'cause o' them. I'd wager on it!' He paused as he heard uncouth voices speaking in a tongue he knew all too well, even if he didn't get a word of it. 'Orcs...an' nowhere near th' crossroads...shit...' He readied his blade and shield, already having had the former out. Two Orc warriors emerged from the trees soon enough, already on to him and charging, shouting and swinging about a battle-axe and war-hammer and clad in leather armor, bearing light wooden shields. 'Hmm...Fighters. Great, a test of my skills on ones of my class.' He dodged the battle-axe and blocked the war-hammer, noting that it dented his shield a bit, and swiped at the axe Orc, only to be met with shield. He jumped back, barely avoiding another axe stroke, pinning the axe with his sword and spinning to smack the Orc in the face with his shield before springing away to avoid another downward swing of the hammer. Turning, he charged the axe Orc as he tried to get his bearings, thrusting at his torso. He dazedly brought his axe haft up and managed to deflect the stab so that only a chunk of his armor was removed, rather than flesh. Reuben grit his teeth. "Oh, yeah? Try this, bastard!" He blocked a horizontal blow from the hammer, denting his shield further, and turned the hammer aside, using the shield's new shape to grip it somewhat, and cut the hammer Orc's arm asunder. He sprang aside, predicting the axe strike from behind, through not quickly enough, as a chunk of his cloak and armor were torn away. Reuben quickly decapitated the disarmed Orc before he could do anything else and faced down the axe Orc. He snarled and cursed the Human in its foul tongue. "C'mon, if ya've th' balls!" the Mercenary taunted. The Orc let out some grunting laughter at Reuben's attitude. "What's got ya so jovial? Do share, ya piece o' shit," Several arrows whistled from the trees. Only luck and his shield saved him from a fatal wound. Unfortunately, an arrow did manage to lodge itself in his shoulder, only slowed slightly by his armor. "Shit!" He rolled aside as the axe Orc attacked again, cutting across his green leg. He followed up with a swift thrust through the head before rolling aside to dodge several more arrows. Four more Fighter Orcs emerged from the trees, sporting splint mail, falchions with wide guards, tridents, and more warhammers and battleaxes. Four Ranger Orcs were somewhat visible behind them. 'Well, I'm right fucked, but that ain't ever stopped me afore!' The four Fighters charged him as more arrows whistled by. He ducked around them, fending off and parrying blows, making nicks and cuts where he could, but there were no openings to exploit that would bring a swift end to any of his foes and splint mail wasn't something that could just be cut through like leather. Another arrow stuck in his right side, making him almost take a fatal blow from the war-hammer. 'Cerys, I could really use yer repayment right 'bout now...' He managed a cut across the falchion Orc's face, but got a shield bash for that, dazing him. The axe Orc raised its weapon for a finishing blow.

* * *

Cerys rushed towards the din of battle, fearing the worst. Alyndra and Bryston labored behind her, but her Longstrider skill made her difficult to overcome. Coming to a ridge, the Huntress spotted a lone figure fighting, fiercely, a losing battle. He was bashed in the face by the falchion-wielding Orc as she watched and the axe-wielding Orc raised his axe to split his skull. Her bow sang in response, making a tough shot for her short bow, but the Orc fell with an arrow in his forehead. The war-hammer one quickly followed with an arrow in the side of the head. Reuben roused himself and deflected the falchion, quickly doing the same to the trident and pinning it. An arrow whistled by his face, but he ignored it and kicked the falchion Orc in the side of the leg, threatening his balance. The trident Orc managed to raise his weapon and force Reuben back a step, but an arrow quickly ended him. The Mercenary quickly blocked another slice of the falchion, pulling it down with his buckled shield, and stabbing the Orc through the throat, cutting off his arm for good measure. Cerys tried to shoot the Orc Rangers, but her bow couldn't make the shot and the ridge was steep, making it unreasonable to climb down in a hurry.

'Angelickdammit, where are those two!' she thought angrily, hesitant to leave her spot. Six more Orc Fighters, wearing splint mail and wielding falchions and light wood shields emerged from the woods. "Geez, Reuben, looks like ya stumbled onto an Orc camp. How do ya do it?" she called, readying another arrow.

"Nat'rally, apparently," he called back with a grimace. An Orc Ranger came creeping up behind Cerys, but she managed to hear the disturbed leaves and spun, putting an arrow in his eye. Pained, Reuben prepared for another tough fight, but a globe of flame came rolling through midair and hit one of the Orcs, setting her ablaze. The other Orcs were dismayed at this, but a glowing stone flew past Reuben and struck one in the head, dazing him. Reuben chopped him in half before he recovered. Another rock flew at another Orc, but he blocked it with his shield. The third rock struck his ally in the head, though. Cold steel put an end to them, regardless. Alyndra and Bryston stepped in. The Cleric, though pale, looked more determined than one would expect of such a meek boy of nineteen. Cerys used her rope to quickly descend the ridge she was on as Alyndra fired Magic Missiles at the enemy Rangers. Landing, Cerys joined in, feathering the last one.

"Are ya okay?" Cerys asked, unnecessarily.

"I got two fuckin' arrows stuck in me. Do I look okay ta you!" he barked, grimacing at the effect it had on the wounds.

"Yep, yer fine," the Huntress grinned, though it was tempered with relief.

"Bullshit..." he groused. "Hurry up an' heal me, I'm gettin' light-headed. My luck the bastards poisoned those arrows," Cerys took a knee and looked at his pallor.

"Hmm...Detect Poison!" her hand gave a green flash as she held it over his shoulder. "Yep, I'm 'fraid so,"

"F-Forgive me, but I haven't th-the skill to n-neutralize it," Bryston stammered.

"Don't get all shook up, I'm fine," he stubbornly affirmed, though his eyesight disagreed, going blurry.

"Cain't ya stall it? I cen do it," Cerys asked.

"Oh, r-right...how silly of me..." the Cleric chuckled nervously. "Delay Poison!" Reuben was briefly engulfed by green light that suffused from Bryston's fingertips. His vision cleared, but he was still acutely aware of his injuries.

"'Kay, now let's get them arrows out. Deep breath, Reuben," she grasped the shaft in his shoulder.

"Ya know, this's startin' ta sound familiar-AHHHH! Angelickdamn ya an yer family ta bloody hell ya motherfuckin' bitch!" he roared, not happy with the hole in his shoulder.

"Hmm...they're barbed. Great," Cerys observed calmly and dropped the arrow.

"I'll rip yer Angelickdamn head off!" the Mercenary continued as Bryston used Cure Moderate Wounds to patch up the hole. "At least try to loosen it up first!"

"What do ya _think_ I'm doing?" she said with a resigned look, wiggling the shaft in an attempt to minimize the tearing. Yes, it was standard to shove an arrow through when removing it, but having to patch multiple vital organs wasn't a joyful proposition.

"OW! I'm runnin' outta Angelickdamn profanity fer ya, Cerys!" he snarled as Bryston quickly and nervously set about healing that wound too.

"U-Um...would you like me t-to repair your equipment?" the Cleric asked timidly as he finished.

"Ya cen do that?" the Mercenary frowned. Bryston nodded unsurely. "An' ya let me waste money replacin' m' armor?"

"Y-Yes..." Bryston blanched. Reuben, surprisingly, merely sighed.

"Whatever, jus' hurry up. Th' Orcs might be back soon," he held up his dented shield. The Cleric hid his surprise, as did Alyndra, who had watching silently, for once, the entire time.

"Oh! U-Um...Make Whole!" he put his hand to the shield as he invoked the spell and the piece of metal was briefly engulfed with white light, returning to its previous shape with a pop like thin tin being flexed. He quickly did the same for the damaged armor, making the missing chunks grow back, and his cloak, making it regrow to its full length.

"Great. Now we should go check out that camp. I wanna make sure there ain't gonna be any more surprises," he declared.

"Then I'll lead," Cerys pushed him gently aside and took the lead. "No sense in a repeat o' that pathetic display,"

"Oh, please. I had 'em, an' ya know it," he responded with a nudge of his own.

"Whatever ya say," the Huntress returned casually, setting off into the trees.

"You're welcome," Alyndra muttered in Elvish.

"I'm sure that he's grateful, in his own way," Bryston consoled her.

"It is either that, or he is too exhausted to bother with chewing us out," the Elf shrugged.

* * *

Cerys tracked the Orcs' trail a short ways, Reuben behind her with weapon at the ready. They came to the treeline of an artificial clearing that looked fairly recent. A few disgruntled Orcs were left, guarding the skin tents and blinking in the sunlight, though the day was becoming overcast. Alyndra and Bryston came up after a moment, observing the camp, themselves. Cerys nodded at Reuben and he rolled his eyes before nodding. He stood and jumped into the clearing.

"Who wants a one-way trip ta hell? I see a few takers!" he shouted, running around one of the tents, ducking arrows and waving his sword around. Cerys picked off a couple of Rangers as the four Fighters chased Reuben. Alyndra jumped out, pelting the remaining Rangers with Magic Missiles. Reuben tripped one Fighter as the other three caught up. Quickly stabbing his foe through the head, he jumped back, sizing the three remaining ones up. They were decently armed, like the others had been. A glowing rock hit one in the head, followed by two more hitting the other two. This was a good enough distraction to see one gutted. The others quickly blocked his attack and tried to counter, but were also blocked.

"Sound Burst!" a silver sphere shot from Bryston's hand, striking behind the Orcs and hitting them with a sonic shockwave that slightly hurt and stunned them. Reuben quickly cut them down. Cerys scanned the camp, looking for signs of more Orcs that may just be away or hiding. Alyndra listened intently. It was soon apparent, however, that the camp was now deserted.

"'Bout time," Reuben flexed his sore muscles. "Hadn't had a workout like that 'n years,"

"Nice job, cloth-boy," Cerys nudged Bryston playfully and ruffled his hair, much to his chagrin. "Glad ta see ya helpin' out in fights!"

"If peltin' stuff wit' rocks is helpin'..." Reuben commented, searching through the tents.

"What are you foraging for?" Alyndra queried.

"Well, if I don't find no Elf repellent, I'm hopin' fer some loot," he replied impatiently, like she was stupid.

"Perhaps we shall discover Human repellant, instead," she suggested coolly.

"If the stench don't do it," Cerys interjected, also searching a tent.

"I'll drink ta that," Reuben's gruff voice said from within a tent, fortunately distracted by Cerys's comment.

"You'll drink ta a amputation," the Huntress fired back.

"Need it ta dull th' pain," he shrugged, coming out with a sack of various trinkets. "Anyway, take a look at this," He dumped out the contents onto a dirty rug. Cerys sorted through them.

"Hmm...these look familiar, Alyndra?" she gestured to the finely crafted jewelry.

"Oh, yes! This is a figurine of Pirphal Zumfina, who, three centuries ago-"

"Yeah, yeah. Elf stories. Is it worth much?" Reuben interrupted. Alyndra frowned at him.

"Indeed. It is handcrafted by some of the premier craftsmen and women of Jiren Themar. Even one of these productions are worth two hundred gold apiece,"

"They were likely stolen from Elvish convoys," Bryston observed. "What shall we do?"

"Pawn 'em. Owners're likely dead 'n I ain't leavin' this here fer some Rogue ta pick up," He shoved the trinkets back in the bag and that into his satchel. Alyndra looked scandalized.

"You are no better than a Rogue, if you persist in this looting!" she snapped, her fingers glittering.

"Ta th' victor goes th' spoils," Reuben put a hand on his hilt. "Don' try me, Elf, I still got some energy left ta add ta the corpse pile,"

"A-Alyndra, why are you s-so adamant about-" Bryston began.

"He is burglarizing my people!" she shouted. "I will not abide it!" Reuben began to draw his sword.

"Enough!" Cerys slapped Reuben and Alyndra. "I've had enough o' this! Ya two're always tryin' ta kill each other! What the hell do ya want wit' them, anyway, Elfy? The Orcs stole 'em, not us! Ya want 'em ta lay in th' woods an' rot just 'cause th' owners might still be alive?"

"We must endeavor to espy them!" Alyndra persisted.

"Then I'm keepin' 'em 'til ya find out if they're dead," Reuben grudgingly assented. "I'm givin' 'em ta a craftsman ta sell, if there ain't no owners, an' I'll want coin," Alyndra growled but finally agreed, her fingertips fading.

"No deceit, Human, I will be observing you," she threatened. Cerys groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. I think we'd best be goin', though. More Orcs might come by ta see what's up wit' their buddies an' we don't wanna be here," she went about plucking arrows out of enemies. After this, she lead them back to the road and retrieved her rope and salvaged more arrows. Soon enough, they were on the road again, at last.

"How far is it to Honeyhorn, anyway?" Bryston inquired, after a few silent minutes.

"Still far," Cerys responded, back to being cheerful. "Probably might make it by tonight, might not. Least we'll be able ta camp by Azure Lake, if not. Pretty nice place,"

"At least there's water," Reuben noted briefly without turning.

"What manner of metropolis is Honeyhorn?" Alyndra posed next. "Is it akin to Oakenrest?"

"Well, sorta," Cerys scratched her head. Since when was she a tour guide? "It's got more business, being on th' route from Oakenrest 'n Stagdrift, so it's bigger 'n got more stuff t' buy,"

"I look forward to perusing the shops," Alyndra explained. "Mayhap our Elf traders are there,"

"Don't count on it, doxy," Reuben muttered, just quietly enough that only she heard it. Her eyes narrowed, but she decided that she was tired of fighting, at the moment.

"More importantly, Captain Suicide needs some better armor," Cerys teased, patting the Mercenary on the shoulder.

"Maybe Major Suicide should shut up while she has a mouth," Reuben mocked her tone poorly.

'I am not certain that I will ever comprehend this relationship. His threats are false and meant in jest?' Alyndra shook her head. She paused, however, as she heard a feeble crying, like that of a bird, coming from the trees nearby.

"Alyndra?" Bryston stopped and gave her a puzzled look. "What is it?"

"I hearken what sounds to be a wounded avian," she announced.

"Hmm...thought I heard that," Cerys affirmed. "Let's go look,"

"Let's not," Reuben objected impatiently. "We're already makin' lousy time," Cerys ignored him and headed off to the trees with Alyndra. Bryston gave a timid glance and shuffled after them. Reuben's vision blurred, right at that moment. 'Damn...the poison...right...' He headed after the others. "Cen one of ya do somethin' wit' this poison?" he demanded. Bryston hesitantly stopped to do so, but Cerys turned briefly, tossing him a small vial of silvery liquid.

"Ah! A Neutralize Poison potion!" the Cleric exclaimed. "How-"

"Give it!" Reuben grabbed the bottle and chugged it, grimacing at the bitter taste. His vision soon cleared up and his light-headedness faded. Cerys and Alyndra came to a trembling bush. Cerys pulled it aside to see an eagle with a twisted wing, whining pitifully.

"What foul deed could have committed such harm to this creature!" Alyndra proclaimed with genuine concern. Cerys knelt and gently touched the creature's wing, causing it to caw in distress. The Huntress replied in a series of caws, managing to placate the bird after a short conversation.

"The Orcs broke her wing and threw her here to die. Filthy bastards," Cerys informed the others.

"We must aid her!" Alyndra insisted. "Bryston, please!"

"Of course," the Cleric gently ran his fingers over the wing, utilizing his healing touch. Cerys spoke to the bird to keep it calm as Bryston gently straightened and healed the damaged appendage. Reuben huffed and crossed his arms, but wasn't to the point of complaining, yet. After a couple of minutes, the bird was as good as new. It gave a loud caw and soared off into the sky.

"She says 'thank you'," Cerys translated as the eagle flew off towards the Orc camp.

"Well, we should go. Time's tickin'," Reuben urged, making to leave.

"I suppose..." Alyndra agreed disappointedly. As they returned to the road, however, the eagle came back and landed on Cerys's shoulder, cawing quietly in her ear. She spoke with the bird for a bit before turning to the party.

"She wants ta come wit' me," she gave a one-handed shrug.

"Oh, indeed!" Alyndra said excitedly.

"Why not?" Bryston agreed, glad to see the Elf maiden so happy about something.

"Great, now we gotta some bird seed in town..." Reuben grumbled, though this may have been his way of assent.

"Naw, Reuben. She can hunt fer herself," the Huntress explained with a grin. "I'm gonna call 'er Isobel," She made an inquiry to the bird. "Great. Isobel it is!"

"Wonderful," Reuben's sarcasm could be cut with a knife. "And why'd ya take so long wit' th' antidote?"

"Forgot I had it," Cerys defended nonchalantly. In reality, she was trying to give Bryston a confidence boost and show off a little herself. 'Sorry, Reuby.'

As they came to the first crossroads of three that they would encounter before Honeyhorn, Cerys looked down the westward road, scanning the horizon for Orcs. Isobel came back after a moment and reported the same as Cerys saw.

"So far so good," she commented, leading the party down the eastward road, instead. As they left the trees behind, Alyndra seemed somewhat disappointed, but began to speak of the geography in the area they were now in. Grassy plains stretched on for a bit as far as they could see and rushing water could be heard as they neared another fork in the road.

"May we halt for a meal?" Bryston, footsore and hungry, begged.

"Whatever," Reuben consented, hiding the fact that he had been thinking the same thing. The party sat down in the grass by the road and ate a few bits of jerky and some biscuits and dried fruit.

"This place's nice, but I still prefer th' woods near Stagdrift," Cerys commented. "Never a place like where ya was born 'n raised,"

"You're from Stagdrift?" Bryston said interestedly. "I suppose I should have guessed from your sublime tracking skills,"

"Yep, m' parents taught me ever'thin' I know," she held up a bit of biscuit for Isobel to eat. The bird cooed her gratitude.

"My parents taught me the ways of the Cleric in Mistwatch. We lived at the Great Monastery together," Bryston shared.

"My locale of origin is the domicle of Nythfnore," Alyndra added. "It is a locale renowned for the production of cloth of the most exceptional quality. I have since dwelt at the Magickal Academy of Magevault, in cogitation and research, for the late three and a half decades,"

"What 'bout you, Reuben?" Cerys turned to the Mercenary. He seemed to be paying little mind to the conversation.

"What ' _bout_ me?" he deflected.

"What 'bout yer hometown?" she pressed.

"Meh...not worth mentionin'," he rose. "Now 'r we done 'r we gotta watch ya feed that bird all our biscuits?" Isobel cawed and flew off again. Cerys looked up at the sun's position, or what she could tell of it with the encroaching clouds.

"Guess yer right. It's gettin' on in th' day," she agreed. So they set off again. Alyndra continued her spiel about the scenery. Cerys and Reuben pulled ahead of the group a bit.

"Y'know, y' don' have ta bother wit' me anymore," he mumbled. "Debt's repaid an' all that,"

"C'mon, ya know I don' care 'bout that no more," Cerys teased. "I woulda ditched ya long back if I didn't wanna be 'round ya,"

"Psh...ya jus' like pickin' at me," he challenged, glancing at her.

"Guilty as charged," she grinned.

"Bitch," he gave a small smile and hurried off ahead.

* * *

 **Some people are pretty complicated, but I still didn't quite mean for there to be a character study, but Alyndra had to ask. Guess Cerys and Reuben really are friends, now if only he could warm up to the others...Critiques would be appreciated, as usual.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Honeyhorn adventure finally comes! Don't own D &D, yadda yadda. Character development, yadda yadda. Language warning, etc.**

* * *

The next fork in the road bore a wooden bridge on the eastward road, crossing the southward river that they had heard before.

"Runs outta Azure Lake," Cerys shouted over the din of rushing water. "You'll see it in a bit," She turned to the northward road, leading the group onwards against the wind. The river diverged, eastward, from the roadside a bit, not slowing its speed.

"I speculate if it is at all analogous to the lake neighboring the municipality of my birth," Alyndra commented as they ascended in elevation, coming to a downward path that branched off from the main one.

"Angelick preserve me," Bryston breathed as they halted to look down on the shimmering blue waters of the natural bowl of water below. The sun briefly broke through the clouds for this effect, but only allowed them a moment before it was veiled again and the blue faded to blue-gray. The next moment, a harsh wind, harsher than before, kicked up and rain began to lash down at them. Quickly, they pulled their hoods up to shield their faces from the hard precipitation and bowed their heads.

"See what yer stallin' did?" Reuben complained over the wind. "C'mon! Let's go!" They wrapped their cloaks around themselves and trudged, as hastily as was wise, on along the swiftly muddying road.

"It was worth it!" the Huntress retorted, unshaken by the weather. Bryston tried to make himself as little of a target as possible for the rain, but failed to not get soaked. Alyndra sang softly in Elvish as she stepped lightly along, troubled little and even taking joy in the patter of the water droplets and the smell of dampened grass. Shortly enough, they came to another bridge and crossed it as speedily as the bad footing allowed. Bryston clutched his cloak tightly to himself and looked uneasily at the swirling waters below, praying to Angelick that they wouldn't wash the bridge out. Trudging on in relative silence, the party eventually saw smoke rising ahead from the chimneys of houses within a stone wall, which was lined with crenellation to fire arrows from the crenels, hide behind the merlons from enemy fire, or to view what was happening outside. There were a four pairs of towers, each bordering one of the four gates on each intermediate direction on the city. There were four more at the cardinal directions, spaced evenly between the others, though they were taller. The former were sentry towers, the latter scout. The lit windows were, currently, the only means of seeing the city, at the moment, and the occasional flash of lightning, of course. Alyndra had no problems seeing it clearly though, as she had natural low-light vision, being an Elf.

"Finally!" Reuben yelled over the continued winds. It was another twenty minutes of struggling against the foul weather before the quartet managed to approach the menacing archway, protected by two tall gates of steel and a metal portcullis, though the gates were currently open. A guard was sitting under a wooden shelter on each side of the gate. They were better armed than the Oakenrest guards, who had only had leather armor and hastas. These men wore steel metal cuirasses with matching helmets and gauntlets and bore tridents with bucklers strapped to their off arms and arming swords sheathed at their sides. All their gear bore the gold-glazed boar's horn of Honeyhorn rather than the oak tree of Oakenrest and they wore hooded brown cloaks over all.

"Halt!" one of the guards commanded as both leapt to their feet and came out into the downpour, scanning them dourly from under their hoods. "What business brings ya to Honeyhorn?" Bryston looked nervously back and forth between the armed men.

"We're here fer a job that we heard 'bout in Oakenrest," Cerys answered. "Headin' ta th' pub,"

"Right...your names?" one of the guards pulled out a ledger and stood under the lip of his shelter.

"Cerys Hunter, Reuben Nieves, Bryston Cross, and Alyndra Virnan," the Huntress replied as Reuben huffed his impatience at this bureaucratic waste of time.

"Hmm...Alyndra. That's an Elf name?" the guard not jotting the names down inquired with a frown and distrustful tone, squinting at the elf in the poor light of his lantern.

"That is correct," Alyndra responded, frowning at the man's tone. "Is there a problem?"

"We aren't quite keen on lettin' Elves in, what with the trouble away east," the guard shook his head.

"She ain't no harm!" Reuben snapped. "Killed quite a few Orcs 'n saved a town, more 'r less. Now cen we get outta this rain?"

"He's right. She's not a bad sort. We cen vouch fer it," Cerys added supportively.

"Indeed, by Lord Angelick's name, I promise you that we tell no falsehood," Bryston drew a cross over his chest.

"Hmm...well, if ya all say so...we trust Angelickan Clerics 'round here," the guard turned. "Open the gate!" The portcullis slid upwards with many metallic clicks as a wheel was turned somewhere. "Can't be too careful 'round here. Orc raids 'n all. Already had a couple Elves come in wit' a battered wagon. If they hadn't been merchants, they'd be here greetin' ya. Good evening," the guard went back inside his shelter, cursing the weather, and the party continued inside; Alyndra brightened at the mention of the Elf merchants.

'Mayhap they are the ones who were burglarized by the Orcs!' she thought. 'I shall thwart you on this affair, Reuben!' Rain pattered on the brick streets as the portcullis closed behind them and they proceeded past the large, stone guardhouse and into the town. The buildings, even in the dark, were clearly of a more expensive make than the ones in Oakenrest. Lit windows of many homes looked at them as they headed for the center of town via the straight street of rough flagstones. Cerys seemed to know where she was going. Empty merchant stands filled the rounded central plaza as they came to it. The wind blew the signs of several businesses round the ring back and forth violently. Most had dimmed windows on the lower floors, indicating their closure, but one did not.

"Over there!" Cerys yelled over the din. The light was getting worse, though Alyndra had no trouble seeing clearly, as was usual for an Elf in poor lighting. The party came to the building with speed, barely glancing at the sign that read The Foraging Bear.

Chatter met their ears as they emerged into the warm and dry building, dripping and cold. Quite a few patrons looked at them, but little note was made as drinks and food were turned back to. Rubbing their arms, the party headed to the counter.

"Rough trip?" the bartender asked. "Storm just came up. Lot's o' people got caught,"

"Yep," Cerys agreed. "Ya got four rooms?"

"Sure, twenty gold apiece," the middle-aged, brunette, bearded man replied. They traded money for keys, now starting to shiver a bit. "Ya want some hot apple cider? Might help drive the chill away,"

"Sure," Cerys slid more gold over and received four mugs on a tray. "An' cen we get some dinner, while we're at it?"

"Right. Be ready in a bit," the bartender nodded before barking an order into the back kitchen. The Huntress led the four to an empty table in the back corner, thankfully near the fire, and they lowered their hoods as they sat down.

"Cheers!" she distributed the mugs and took a swig of the fruity and spicy cocktail. Reuben quietly took a deep drink, setting the tankard down heavily. Alyndra sipped at it, noting its flavors.

"Exquisite! Much superior to the swill that you Humans call ale," she simultaneously complimented and insulted.

"Meh, ya jus' ain't got th' stomach fer ale, Elf," Reuben muttered dismissively. Bryston gratefully drank the warm beverage, feeling it warm his chilled limbs, and paid a tithe of attention to the exchange.

"Ta each their own," Cerys interjected with a shrug. "The stuff in Oakenrest wa'n't th' best, anyway," She looked pensively out the window. "Hope Isobel found shelter from th' storm,"

"Eagles are highly intelligent. I am confident that she has located refuge," Alyndra comforted.

"We may have bigger problems th'n that dumb bird," Reuben noted, looking away from the table at a few of the patrons. Alyndra's ears were attracting some grim looks. From what the gate guard had said, it wasn't surprising. "Some bastard's 'r takin' interest in our pointy-eared pinhead. Might wanna be careful,"

"You'd likely unite with them," the Elf maiden accused coldly.

"Probably," the Mercenary answered nonchalantly, taking another swig of his cider.

"R'gardless, th' anti-Elf sentiment's gettin' higher in Falo," Cerys adjoined. "Better watch our asses," Bryston looked uncomfortable.

"If I could talk to them, perhaps..." he began.

"Doubt it," Reuben cut across him. "Ain't gonna listen ta reason,"

"Attributing their miseries on me will yield no boon," the Elf reasoned.

"Y' think they care! Yer fuckin' naïve fer someone yer age," Reuben snapped. "Don' give that look at me! I know yer not as young as ya look, but yer gonna be eatin' some Angelickdamn fists if ya go on like this, doxy. Don' say I didn' warn ya!" He walked off to get some whiskey, grumbling.

"If I didn' know better, he's givin' advice," Cerys smirked. "Still, he's right. Best stay low in this burg. I ain't wantin' ta start trouble," Reuben stayed at the counter for a bit, discussing something with the barkeeper and eventually came back with tankards of whiskey and their food balanced on trays.

"This food is poor," Bryston observed, poking at the meat, after the provender was distributed.

"Meh, this ain't no fancy inn," Reuben frowned. "Take it 'r leave it," He cast a glance back to the glowering patrons.

"What's up?" Cerys muttered to him. The mercenary rolled his eyes.

"Bounty hunters," he mumbled back. "After Elf heads, on account o' trouble in th' east,"

"Shit. What do we do?" the Huntress asked.

"It's the bitch's problem," he shook his head, leaning back from the conversation. Alyndra frowned, not only from the taste of the sub-par meat and overly boiled vegetables, but from the conversation.

'This must be what my Master warned me of before I departed the Academy.' she thought. 'Those who abhor you for what you are. I'd hoped that Reuben was the exception, not the rule, but I was deluding myself. Cerys was correct in her words.' She chewed at a soggy carrot, grimacing at the flavor. 'The other Elves may be in jeopardy, as well. I must find them with alacrity.' That wouldn't be happening at the moment, though. The weather forbade most rash decisions, else they would already likely be involved in an altercation. The meal proceeded in relative silence, interrupted only be the local bell tower giving a single ring to signal nightfall.

"Did th' guy say anythin' 'bout th' job?" Cerys questioned a bit after this. Reuben glanced at her as he took a swig of his burning beverage.

"Sure," he replied, mildly hoarse, as he set the tankard down heavily. "Said th' blue bloods up in Castlepass want some book called 'Et mihi de auro' that's in some place called Lostvault Tower, northeast o' here. 'parently, monsters took up residence 'cause o' some dumbass magician that used t' live there,"

"Oh! The Book of Gold!" Alyndra piped up excitedly. "That codex has long been mislaid to the ages!"

"Surely they speak not of the book that grants knowledge of every legendary relic in the world?" Bryston put in, just as interested.

"Oh, to hold that ancient tome in my hands. Master Robalar would be delighted to hear of it!" she gushed, eyes sparkling.

"I get th' feelin' we're missin' somethin'..." Cerys commented towards Reuben. He cocked an eyebrow in response and took another drink.

"My apologies. You weren't raised around powerful magic users and historians, who bear this close to heart," Bryston answered apologetically. "The Book of Gold is an ancient artifact of Tweplund, the First Father, Saint Jaylin Sykes, helped write it alongside The Evoker of Tweplund, who later founded the Magevault Academy of Magick,"

"Together, the two catalogued all of the knowledge of the antiquities of legend," Alyndra adjoined. "Sanctvirga, the Staff of the First Father, Luxensis, the Blade of Divinity, Cylch Atgofus, the Golden Ring of the Evoker...The list goes on! To have the full account..."

"Meh, I don't care why th' blue bloods want it," Reuben interrupted. "But th' reward's twenty-five hundred gold, so they want it, somethin' bad," Alyndra looked crestfallen.

"Hold on there," Cerys cut in. "We gotta get some better stuff, first. Tomorra, we're goin' shoppin fer armor 'n weapons,"

"What's wrong wit' m' sword?" the Mercenary objected.

"It cain't cut through splint mail, hardly. What happens if somethin's wearin' somethin' tougher?" the Huntress cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Tch...whatever," he rose from the table. "Well, I'm goin' ta turn in. Make sure ya don' get stabbed in yer sleep, doxy," He headed past the counter and up some stairs that were through a doorway.

"Is that likely?" Bryston asked nervously.

"Depends, but I doubt they wanna start anythin' they cain't run from easy," Cerys deduced. "But we'll need ta watch our asses tomorra," They rose as a group and also headed upstairs. Fortunately, their rooms were near each other, so there was little searching to do. "Good night, 'lyndra, cloth-boy," she nodded to them.

"May the Lord grant us a peaceful and restful slumber," the Cleric added.

"Amen," Alyndra agreed, heading into her room. The accommodations were a bit better than that of Oakenrest, as there were actual mattresses and pillows, rather than sacks, and there were bathtubs in the washrooms, though the burners would have to be stoked to life to heat any water. As such, Alyndra was able to do so with the use of her Burning Hands ability. Bryston managed to light the device with his new Searing Light spell, though he nearly burned a whole in the floor, as he was still practicing with it. Cerys was always able to start fires as it came with being a Ranger and Woodsperson so she had little problem. Reuben grumbled as he scrubbed with cool water. If he hadn't been so proud, he might have taken some time to dabble in magic or outdoormanship or even just asked for help. At least he was decently drunk, so the water felt lukewarm to him.

* * *

The sun peeked through the clouds the following morning. The party was awoken by the dawn bell. Naturally, Reuben let out his usual string of profanity at being awoken before noon.

"Angelickdamn bell! Who th' fuck decided ta get people up at the damn crack o' dawn!" he shouted, annoyed further by his minor hangover. It was a wonder he ever got any work accomplished when he was on his own.

"Some people have to work all day, Reuby," Cerys teased through the door.

"Fuck yer levity, Cerys!" he barked predictably. "How do ya always manage ta be so cheery in th' mornin'?"

"Natural talent," she smirked as he opened the door, already pulling his gear on. "Now th' shops open soon, so we best get goin'!"

"Women and shoppin'..." he grumbled, quickly splashing his face with cool water, in the washroom. "My stuff works fine..."

"Yeah, yeah. Sexist remarks...breakfast is gonna get cold!" she urged, still with that teasing tone and infuriating smirk.

"When did ya have time fer that?" he grumbled, stumbling out of his room and haphazardly locking it behind him.

"Oh, I didn'. I had cloth-boy 'n 'lyndra handle it," the Huntress explained easily. Reuben snorted at her pet names and plodded down the stairs. The standard fare of broiled bacon, fried eggs, broiled ham, and scones awaited with wooden cups of milk as they came down. Bryston was fetching it from the counter, along with some others that were doing the same for their own provender.

"Good morning!" the Cleric greeted. "Blessed is this day that Angelick has provided us with," The Mercenary ignored him in favor of succoring some pain killer herbs from the hassled bartender. A bundle of them was thrown in his general direction and he snatched them up, following his allies to a table that Alyndra was holding for them. He glanced around at the other patrons as they set to their board.

'Good. Them bounty hunters ain't here...I ain't in th' mood fer 'em. Not that I'd help, anyway. They can _have_ th' Elf bitch.' Of course, he wouldn't admit that he was in little condition to fight at the moment, which likely was the real reason he wouldn't get involved. Hangovers and natural morning grogginess can do that to a man. Alyndra began a spiel about the meal customs of Humans and Elves and how they differed. He paid little attention, but gathered that Elves ate less meat and more fruit at breakfast. 'Never understand those Angelickdamned, pointy-eared freaks. Y' gotta have meat fer breakfast! Gives ya energy!' He practically inhaled his food, something the Elf maiden didn't appreciate, judging by her look of disgust at his eating habits. "Ain't m' fuckin' fault ya eat so damned slow!" he growled, noticing her look.

"At least I am in possession of rudimentary amenities," the Elf retorted.

"'Kay, let's not start this again," Cerys interceded before Reuben could do his usual thing of drawing steel. He stopped halfway, giving the Huntress a dirty look, and plopped back down, chugging his milk for something to do.

After breakfast, the quartet left The Foraging Bear and stepped out into the weak sunlight, smelling the damp smell of the stone and cloth that was present around the square. Isobel flapped up and landed on Cerys's shoulder to a caw a greeting, nick the bit of scone that Cerys offered, and let Alyndra stroke her plumage before taking off to roost on the inn roof. The merchants' stands were now occupied with sellers of bread, fruit, vegetable, and other foodstuffs like pickled cucumbers and carrots. Cerys, familiar with the town, still, pointed across the square at an average-sized shop. "Th' Honed Horn. Our stop fer gear," she expounded. It was a short trip, though they were delayed a bit by the merchants, as Alyndra wanted to stop and look at their wares.

"Oh, fer fuck's sake, you jabbering, Angelickdamn bane of an Elf! Cen we jus' hurry ta th' shop already?" Reuben raged after ten minutes of this.

"I shall incinerate you, Human! You are the most insufferable-" she spat a word in Elvish. "-I have ever met!" she barked, readying a Scorching Ray. Steel was drawn.

"Knock it off!" Cerys shouted even louder, ignoring the cowering merchant. "Ya wanna get kicked outta town?" The two seemed to think better of their desire to engage in mortal combat and slowly lowered their respective attack methods, though they still gave each other glares that, luckily, couldn't kill but would if they could.

"My apologies, good sir," Bryston attempted to placate the shopkeeper. "My companions can be of ill temper at times. Lord Angelick keep you," The man looked somewhat comforted, but didn't relax until they moved on. Alyndra sourly bit from an apple that she had bought at the stand. She enjoyed it quite a bit, but was too cross to elaborate on it much, at the moment.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a short, black goatee and blue robes with matching buckled shoes, looked up as the four entered his shop.

"Ah, welcome to The Honed Horn," he said eloquently with a little bow. "I can and will help you with any and all weapons and armor needs, so long as you have the requisite coin,"

"Yeah," Cerys found that she had little to say to his obviously rehearsed speech. "I need a few arrows 'n a longbow, if ya got it,"

"Ah, yes. I have several longbows and plenty of arrows, all crafted with the finest yew and eagle plume, in the case of the arrows," he gestured to a large, glass-front display case that lined the wall to their left. "Only one hundred gold for the bow and four for twenty arrows,"

"Seems a bit high," the Huntress noted, hand on her hip and fixing the man with a scrutinizing stare.

"This is a business, miss, not a charity," the shopkeeper's voice became oily.

"Yeah, whatever," Reuben stepped forward, unintentionally menacing the shorter man. "I need some heavy armor, whatever ya got, an' a better sword. This 'un's iron. Cen ya handle that?" The man nodded quickly and fearfully.

"Y-Yes...I have a steel sword and steel splint mail. M-Might I also recommend a helmet, greaves, bracers, and gauntlets, all made of hardened steel? Only t-two hundred and nine gold!" the man stammered.

"Fine," Reuben thrusted some gold at the man. He quickly fetched the items.

"Get a couple o' chain shirts, while yer at it!" Cerys called, amused at how Reuben's rudeness had worked in their favor, this time.

"R-Right away, miss!" the shopkeeper shouted as he ran about.

In the end, they got a full ten percent off of a significant amount of equipment.

"Teach that guy ta try 'n jack stuff up twenty-five percent," Cerys muttered as they left, carrying their new gear in a crate. Rather, Cerys and Reuben were carrying it.

"For once, I am delighted that your aggression was a boon," Alyndra complimented, though she still sounded aloof.

"But we have deprived that man of coin!" Bryston protested, cutting off Reuben's scathing remark.

"He's fine," Cerys grunted dismissively as they hauled the crate back to the inn. "Rips people off all th' time. Got more greed 'n sense, most o' th' time," The Cleric still looked unsure, but decided to keep his misgivings private.

* * *

"Ah, this stuff's gonna be a bitch ta wear," Reuben complained, flexing uncomfortably in his new mail. "It's too damn heavy," He actually had a point. He was now quite a bit heavier than before. The helmet and torso armor alone were fifty pounds together, though the helmet was more of a steel cap than a helmet. That didn't make it lighter, though.

"Well, at least ya cen take a hit, now, an' I won't have ta have any more dramatic rescues," the Huntress shrugged as the Mercenary tested the weight of his heavy steel heater shield and flexed his fingers in their new gauntlets.

"Like I'll have a fuckin' choice..." he muttered, shaking his head.

"If it makes ya feel better, my stuff's heavier, too," she offered with a smirk, pointing at her own steel cap and her chain shirt.

"Yeah, ten 'r twenty pounds!" he frowned.

"Better you 'n cloth-boy," she shot back. Reuben cocked an eyebrow.

"Touche," he admitted grudgingly.

"Yay! I win!" Cerys declared, holding up a hand.

"What're ya, five?" he turned away, arms crossed. This, too, proved harder to do.

"Cerys? This is heavy," Bryston came out of his room, looking about the same as before, save for the steel cap, but he looked physically exerted.

"'course it is," she admitted. "It'll keep ya from harm better, though. Try ta deal wit' it,"

"Of course," he nodded, giving a weak grin of confidence. Alyndra examined her new dagger with interest, looking at the craftmanship and, no doubt, thinking of how it differed from her Elvish dagger, which she still kept. Cerys had given her new daggers a regular check and was done with them, for the moment.

"'kay! Now that we've got better stuff, we gotta train wit' it!" the Huntress announced.

"I doubt that th' guard'll let ya use their grounds here," Reuben interjected.

"Ah, we'll use an alley 'r somethin'," the Huntress dismissed.

"I don't know..." Bryston muttered, unsure.

"I see no disservice in this, Bryston. We require practice of our arts," Alyndra persuaded.

"Well, I suppose..." he agreed tentatively.

"Great! C'mon!" she grabbed him by the arm and led the way from the inn.

"Not again!" he whined as he vanished down the stairs. Alyndra and Reuben traded a look that silently agreed to not ask before they followed. The former hadn't forgotten, per se, that she had intended to scour the town for the Elves that she had heard of, so as to ascertain whether they were the ones that had been robbed by the Orcs, but she was easily sidetracked, sometimes.

"I know a good spot. It's over here..." the Huntress led them down the street north of the inn and towards a large warehouse. "We cen practice in here an'-" she stopped, both speech and movement, at the sound of shouting and blows landing.

"The hell?" Reuben asked as he caught up, puffing.

"Think we're not th' only ones here," Cerys released Bryston's arm and drew her new bow, fitting an arrow to it. Reuben readied his new steel sword. It was wider in the blade than he was used to and heavier, like the rest of his equipment, but it would still cut things.

"Help!" a voice called from inside, followed by a clang of metal on metal. The quartet rushed through the ajar door of the warehouse and spotted the three unsavory bounty hunters, a Fighter, Rogue, and a Ranger, from the previous night, attacking an Elf monk and Elf Fighter.

"Look! Another Elf!" the bounty hunter Fighter announced. "Get 'er!"

"Fireball!" Alyndra's palm put forth a sphere of flame that sped at the bounty hunters. The two Elves fled not a moment too soon as the fiery explosion engulfed the trio. Two throwing knives came spinning from the smoke as the fire faded and an arrow accompanied them. Alyndra screamed as one of the knives stuck in her leg and she fell to a knee. Reuben took the knife easily, it glanced off of his armor and clattered to the floor as the arrow bounced from his shield. The singed enemy Fighter charged at the Mercenary, taking a swipe. Reuben blocked it and attempted a counterattack. The other fighter blocked the stroke with his light wooden shield, but the shield split asunder from the blow, causing the Fighter to drop it with a curse. Bryston dropped to a knee and pulled the knife from Alyndra, quickly using a Cure Moderate Wounds on the wound to mend it and a Make Whole to patch the fabric. Cerys shot at the enemy Rogue, but he managed to duck around her shots, hurling more knives. The Huntress rolled aside, avoiding the sharp implements, and loosing more shots at her foe. The enemy Ranger switched to firing at Alyndra, as she had no armor to speak of, but she was now ready and dodged the arrow, countering with a pair of Magic Missiles. Her proficiency was now such that she could fire two at once. The enemy Ranger dodged the missiles, countering with more arrows. Reuben pressed his advantage on the enemy Fighter, who was now having to parry strikes with his sword and dodge and was tiring from the exercise. On the other hand, at least he _could_ dodge and move about more freely. The advantage of his leather armor was made apparent, but it couldn't take a hit, as Reuben proved once he managed to bat the blade from his foe's tired grip and slash him across the chest.

"Agh!" the man staggered backwards, fortunate that the cut hadn't been too deep. "Mercy!" Reuben snorted.

"How many've told _ya_ that, I wonder?" he shrugged. "Not that it matters," The Elf Monk jumped in and incapacitated the man with a harsh blow to the face. Reuben glared at the male brunette Elf, but was interrupted by an arrow glancing off of his helmet. It was a lucky happenstance, really. Alyndra took advantage of this and knocked the Ranger out with a Magic Missile to the head and chest. The Rogue took stock of his now reduced odds.

"Well, shit!" he shouted, throwing more knives. A pommel slammed into his head, however, and he fell over, the blond Fighter Elf standing over him with a bleeding gash showing through his torn studded leather armor. The knives missed, luckily, and the quartet met with the Elves. Reuben retreated to the back of the group, not wanting to talk to them and trying to come to terms the fact that that he had just helped in the rescue of some filthy Elves.

"Grace be with you, sister," the Monk Elf said to Alyndra in Elvish, dusting off his green gi. "It is a joyful day to be saved by one of our kindred,"

"Indeed. These wretches intended to end us for profit," the Fighter Elf added in Elvish, still holding his wound.

"And I as well, but to what doom shall we commit them?" Alyndra replied in the common tongue, for the sake of her allies.

"I say we kill 'em," Reuben suggested coldly, weighing his sword. "They woulda done th' same ta us,"

"Be that as it may, I cannot condone murdering anyone, unconscious and defenseless," Bryston protested, putting on a brave face and looking up at the frowning mercenary.

"Psh...buncha dumbasses," he waved his hand around, turning and heading to the door. "Don' blame me if they come back ta kill ya in yer sleep," Six town guards came bursting in the door at that moment. Reuben reflexively raised his weapon, but lowered it once he saw who it was.

"The hell happened in here!" the captain demanded, pointing his trident at the party as his men did the same.

"We got attacked by these louts," Cerys explained. "They were tryin' ta kill these guys," She gestured to the Elves.

"Sir, those three are the wanted rogue bounty hunters," one of the guards informed the captain.

"I see..." the captain moved his trident back upright. "Men! Take those three into custody!" Half the squad hastened to do so. He approached the group. "Thanks fer helpin'. I'll have th' guy at The Foraging Bear give ya four hundred gold apiece for helping us," He saluted and left with the rest of his squad.

"At least I got paid fer savin' these damned Elves..." Reuben grumbled as Alyndra struck up conversation with the Elves again and Bryston patched up their wounds.

"We were travelling from Tweplund with a stock of figurines, cloth, and other wares," the Elf monk explained, speaking slowly in the common tongue. "Orcs waylaid us en route and we were forced to stop here, sans a good amount of our wares,"

"We encountered a bivouac of Orcs amidst our journey to this locale," Alyndra disclosed. "There were figurines, distinctively of Elvish make, amongst their plunder,"

"Could it be, Folas?" the Monk turned to his partner.

"Perhaps, Kellam. The Lord Angelick works in mysterious ways," Folas replied with a smile. Reuben came forward, nudged and heckled by Cerys, and shoved the loot bag into Alyndra's hands before trying to whack the Huntress. She just dodged the attack and stuck her tongue out.

"That's it. We're sparrin' first," he threatened.

"Bring it!" she gave a gesture with her fingers to emphasize this.

"Indeed, these are ours!" Kellam exclaimed with joy, paying little mind to the Human antics nearby. "My gratitude cannot be expressed!"

"We would give you gold, but we have none," Folas added. "Our gratitude will have to do,"

"Fair 'nough, since them louts got us some coin," Cerys placated. "Seems fate r'paid us, anyway,"

"We wish you a good journey," Kellam bowed his head. "Angelick keep you,"

"Amen," everyone but Reuben agreed. The Elves left and he cracked his knuckles.

"Okay, Cerys. Time ta kick yer ass!" he challenged.

"In yer dreams," she smirked, taking off her weapons. He did the same. The two assumed a fighting stance and began to trade blows. Though a sword specialist and wearing heavier gear than he was used to, Reuben was still able to hold his own pretty well against the agile Ranger. They still got a few bumps and bruises, of course, and Alyndra got to try to understand the concept of trash talk. Of course, Bryston didn't quite get it, either. Politeness was important at the monastery and severe discipline awaited the rude. Finally, the two stopped. Both were a bit winded, though Cerys's Ranger Endurance gave her the edge and meant that she was significantly less tired.

"'Kay, guess that's Reuben down!" she called cheerfully as he grabbed his shield and sword.

"Fuck you..." he muttered, going to sit down on some crates near the wall and catch his breath.

"Alyndra, ya up fer this?" she inquired of the Elf maiden. She looked surprised.

"I suppose..." she walked over to Cerys and attempted to mimic her stance. As the fists started to fly, it became obvious, at least to Reuben, that the Huntress was pulling her punches. Not surprising, as the Wizard hadn't shown much adeptness at hand-to-hand, save for a few touch-based spells. He still had to laugh, though, when Alyndra was knocked flat on her butt, clutching her eye.

"Whoops! Sorry, 'lyndra!" the Huntress was quite conciliatory. "Here," she crouched down and held her hand up to the forming black eye. "Cure Light Wounds!" The bruise began to fade as quickly as it had been coming. Alyndra stood back up.

"Thank you for attempting to improve my ability to altercate sans weapons or spells," just as apologetic as Cerys's were her words and she went to sit on some crates, too, though at an obvious distance from Reuben.

"Yer next, cloth-boy!" the Huntress beckoned to Bryston. He blanched.

"Is this really necessary?" he resisted. "I can just use my quarterstaff and-"

"No dice," Cerys shook her head. "If ya lose that, ya gotta have some melee skills, 'sides yer touch o' hurtin'," The Cleric leaned his weapon against the wall and unsurely took up a fighting stance. Cerys began with light enough attacks, but they still hurt when Bryston failed to block a few of them. "C'mon! Don't jus' hide behind yer arms! Fight me!" she shouted, throwing some more punches. He tried to deflect some blows and land one, but ended up becoming quite hurt in the attempts, even with his chain shirt, though it did protect his torso. After five painful minutes, Cerys lowered her fists after she knocked him flat with an elbow to the back. Reuben laughed at this.

"Possess you no compassion for your fellows?" Alyndra scolded.

"Can it, wench, unless ya wanna pick up where we left off earlier," He fingered his sword hilt.

"Oh, indubitably. I was planning on converting your miserable form to ash," she rejoined with a sinister grin that Cerys would have been proud of.

"Anybody want medical attention?" Cerys cut in, coming over with Bryston, who had already patched up himself and the Huntress. Regardless, the Cleric gave them a once-over, anyway, and repaired Reuben's bruises. After so many spells, the Cleric drooped, his energy becoming vitually spent.

"Guess that's our cue ta go back ta th' inn," Cerys asserted. A boom of thunder cut through the warehouse, making Bryston jump.

"Actually, that is," Reuben corrected her, pulling up his hood. "Let's make tracks!"

* * *

The panting and gasping group burst through the inn doors a handful of minutes later, soaked to the bone. They closed the door on the storm and collapsed at a table to catch their breath. They would have been odd, if many others weren't in similar conditions in the pub. It wasn't long before business picked back up again, though, and lunch and drinks were dispersed.

"Stuck inside at this hour," Reuben took a swig of cider and bit into some meat. "This sucks,"

"Beats bein' out in _this_ shit," Cerys said, reasonably enough, nodding at the window. "Go stab yer bed 'r somethin' if yer that restless,"

"Mayhap we may peruse tomes?" Bryston suggested. "I have a few in my bag..."

"Truly? What sort?" Alyndra queried, interested.

"Mostly religious texts, but a few are history codexes," he responded.

"Well, while yer doin' that, I'll be _not_ doin' that," Reuben grumbled.

"It may do ya some good ta read somethin'," Cerys nudged him.

"All th' readin' I need ta do is of wanted posters," he added evasively, shoveling his food in to avoid further questions.

"Yer loss, I s'pose," she shrugged. He finished his food and left unceremoniously, not even a nod.

The storm may have driven them back to the inn, but that didn't deter them from their planned training. Reuben made sweeps with his sword and practiced moving around in his heavier equipment in his room. It wasn't easy, especially as he often relied on dodging and countering in battle. He'd have to limit that from now on, at least until he became able to move more easily in his armor.

'It'll take more'n some heavy metal ta check me.' he stopped to catch his breath again. 'Well, fer long, anyway.'

Cerys shot at a crate that she had managed to lug up to her room, trying to get the feel for her new bow. She also practiced movements and dodging and dodging while firing. Though not weighed down as much as certain Fighters, she still found it hard to use some of her quick maneuvers with her daggers and her bow had a harder draw than before.

'Tch, always somethin'.' she plucked the arrows from the target again. 'I'm startin' ta see why Reuben was so keen on keepin' 'is old stuff.'

* * *

Naturally, practicing magic indoors was ill advised, as they didn't want to burn down the inn or collapse part of it. On top of that, Bryston was still tired from lugging heavy armor around and using a lot of healing magic. Running back to the inn had nearly exhausted him. He had removed his chain shirt and cap and he and Alyndra were now reading a book and discussing the contents. She was well-versed in history, as was he, though to a lesser extent, being younger, so it was a good conversation. The Cleric admired the sparkle in her eyes as she rambled on about events of hundreds of years ago and gave detailed, if long-winded, explanations of them and the preceding events that led to them and the proceeding events and who was involved with them and why. He listened with a smile, occasionally adding in what he knew and learning that Humans didn't always record things in enough detail or sometimes got things completely wrong, either by accident or design. It soon became hard to stay awake, though, as the tiredness and the music of the rain caught up with him and he began nodding in his seat on the floor. Alyndra finally noticed this after a bit and smiled obligingly.

"Mayhap we should discontinue, for the moment," she closed the book that they had been reading and put it away.

"M-My apologies," Bryston yawned.

"It is not a trouble," she answered. "You may retire for the day," He yawned and gratefully dragged himself to the bed and fell down on it. Alyndra sang a little lullaby in Elvish for a bit, helping coax him to sleep, before taking her leave, smiling at how adorable he still was when asleep.

As night rolled around, Reuben took to his usual routine of hanging out in the bar and having a few tankards. This time, he stuck to ale, but was still getting decently drunk. Cerys joined him this time, as she was bored and getting sore and fatigued. They had dropped their caps on the table, finally tired of them, for the day.

"Gettin' better wit' that stuff?" she asked, gesturing to his gear.

"Sure. You?" he answered shortly.

"Kinda hard, but cain't complain," she smiled cleverly.

"Rather ya won't," he quipped, taking a deep swig and looking around at the other patrons briefly. "Nice ta have th' greenhorns outta m' hair. Pain in th' ass, they are,"

"C'mon, Reuben. They're kinda useful," Cerys justified.

"Well, th' Cleric is, anyway," he took another drink. The Huntress sighed.

"If ya say so..." she took a drink. People didn't change quickly, especially if they had good reasons for their ways, but it was getting monotonous. Nothing good would come of pushing the issue, though. It would resolve itself in time.

* * *

 **Next is Lostvault Tower. Kinda excited for that. Critiques would be appreciated.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Usual warnings, plus gross stuff for a sentence or two. Usual disclaimer about not owning things. Enjoy.**

* * *

Weather forced a delay for the next day, not letting up until ten in the morning. The good part about this was that Reuben was less cranky upon being awoken. The bad part was that they may not get done in time to get back to town before nightfall and that had already been doubtful.

"Ah...that time already?" he muttered as they set to breakfast. "Great. I'm ready ta kick ass,"

"I'm sure we all are, but we always seem ta get th' shitty jobs," Cerys shook her head.

"Certainly we may overcome whatever may oppose us," Alyndra claimed boldly. "We are a formidable fellowship," Reuben snorted at the word.

"Angelick willing, we will have few difficulties," Bryston added.

"Doubt it. That guy never seemed ta like me," Reuben took a swig of his drink. "Always had ta get by wi'out divine providence, an' this'll be no different,"

The quartet left the inn, looking up at the partially overcast sky. Isobel swooped down and landed on Cerys's shoulder, cawing a greeting. Cerys returned it and Alyndra stroked the bird admiringly.

"'Kay, fellas. Let's get this show on th' road!" she set off the same way as they had the day before, but continued past the warehouse, mercifully empty, this time and continued down the road for a while, passing some more homes.

"Are we hirin' horses, this time?" Reuben asked, not excited at the prospect of long journeys on foot with heavy metal on.

"Sorry, Reuby, but there ain't none fer hire, right now," Cerys nearly sang.

"Shit..." the Mercenary grumbled. People stared at them as they passed the homes, both because of the large bird on Cerys's shoulder, but also because of Alyndra's obvious Elvishness. Not all of the stares were friendly. A few jeers were even thrown their way. Reuben replied with rude gestures and glares of his own, as some of the words were directed at him. They came, at length, to the northeast gate of the city.

"Halt! Your names?" one of the guards demanded.

"We just went through this, yesterday," Reuben complained, giving the guard such a stink eye that he stepped back.

"Look, we just gotta account fer ya leavin'. No need ta get hostile," the guard growled in return.

"We are Bryston Cross, Alyndra Virnan, Reuben Nieves, and Cerys Hunter," Bryston quickly interrupted.

"'Kay. Angelick keep ya on yer journey," the guard backed off, still eyeing Reuben with a frown.

"Amen," the Cleric replied. The portcullis slid upwards and they departed, drawing up their hoods in advance. Not one of them held much hope that the weather wouldn't sour at some point during the journey. Alyndra began to speak of the town, the various foods she had sampled, and of the history that Bryston and she had studied, as they advanced along the winding road. Cerys sent Isobel to scout around to make sure that they weren't ambushed or surprised.

"The codex expounded that Lostvault Tower was abandoned because of a Necromancer's curse," Alyndra explained. "Many Animated Objects, Skeletons, Undead carrion, and significant pestilence endure there,"

"Sounds fun..." Reuben sarcastically commented. "At least it ain't more Orcs. Sick o' them bastards..."

"The Undead are a foul act of defilement against nature," Bryston grimaced. "They don't belong in this plane,"

"Cen arrows 'r swords hurt 'em? I ain't too used ta fightin' that stuff," Cerys questioned.

"Zombies are resistant to assaults with blade," Alyndra elaborated. "Skeletons are impervious to cold and resist bludgeoning weapons, such as a quarterstaff. It derives from their lacking of internal organs,"

"That matters not, as I may Turn them away," Bryston adjoined, though still looking nervous at the concept. He had heard of the Clerics that fought with the Undead, but never thought that he would be one of them.

"So that means that we gotta leave Undead stuff ta you two, at least th' Zombies," the Huntress concluded. "Hear that, Reuby?"

"Try 'n stop me," he threatened, unconcerned. "An' stop callin' me that!"

They plodded on after that, Alyndra continuing to speak of things that interested her in an attempt to deviate from the unpleasant topic of the tower. The journey was peaceful, the damp grass shimmered in brief glimpses of sunlight and the weather only turned to a light rain for a brief hour as they went, causing the greenery to turn dun, but still not lose much beauty. They halted for a meal around what Cerys claimed was two hours after the noon. Bryston was grateful, as his new armor still encumbered him significantly. Reuben silently agreed with the sentiment, but would never admit it.

"Look at it this way, cloth-boy," Cerys asserted. "Yer gettin' muscle from all this,"

"But I am also becoming fatigued more quickly," the Cleric protested. "What use will I be if I am tired before ever coming to a dangerous area?"

"You are fortunate to be able to don such protective devices and, nevertheless, utilize your magicks," Alyndra comforted, remembering how easily the knife had pierced her robes the previous day. "Wizards are unable to do so as it would interfere with our movements and increase the odds of miscast,"

"Yep, easier ta kill, but them's th' breaks," Reuben didn't sound particularly unhappy about the prospect of her being easier to kill. The Elf's eyes narrowed.

"Somehow, I do not cognate that you would mourn if that were to happen," she noted.

"Nope," he responded coolly, getting up. "Lunch break's over," He began to set off again.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered in Elvish, tempted, for yet another time, to hit him with one of her strongest spells while his back was turned.

Not much further along, they began to hear the sound of running water again.

"Must be near th' bridge," Cerys noted as Isobel came back to report. She had a short conversation with the bird. "Sounds like the tower and th' surroundin' area looks empty, but it's got a gloom on it. Plus, she says someone's been there recently,"

"What could this forebode?" Aylndra wondered aloud.

"Hope nobody's tryin' ta steal that book," Reuben deduced, ignoring the fact that they, too, were likely just robbing a derelict building for money. "I'll kill 'em if they are,"

"So savage..." Alyndra sighed. "Do you ponder only with your brawn?"

"You!" he spun, blade drawn. "I'm gonna have yer head, doxy! I'm done wit' this!"

"Fireball!" Alyndra caught him in a fiery explosion before Cerys could interfere.

"Knock it off!" the Huntress barked as Alyndra jumped backwards to avoid a sword strike. "We need our energy fer th' tower!"

"She's had this comin' fer ages!" Reuben snarled, blocking two Magic Missiles with his shield. "Stay out of it, Cerys!" Alyndra dodged another swipe and a stab, knocking Reuben back a bit with Magic Missiles.

"Sound Burst!" surprisingly, Bryston broke up the fight, stunning them both and allowing Cerys to force them apart. "Do not fight! The Lord Angelick forbids it!"

"What th' hell 'r y' two doin'!" Cerys shouted, her face twisted with fury. This was the side that only enemies usually saw. "Whether ya like it 'r not, we're in this fuckin' shit together! I swear ta Angelick that I'll feather th' next motherfuckin' one o' ya that starts tryin' ta kill each other again!" The others were visibly shocked. Isobel fled from the Huntress's fury with a disgruntled caw. Reuben was the first to recover, giving a snort and walking away. Alyndra held her nose aloft, heading on next, glaring holes in the Fighter's back. Cerys watched them go with cold fury. After a moment, though, her face softened and she began to walk again. Bryston hurried to keep up. "Don't know who's worse, her 'r him," she muttered to the Cleric. "Both so proud 'n stubborn,"

"I don't think that those qualities are bad, per se, rather they're misdirected," Bryston surmised. "Perhaps we can get them to compete," Cerys smirked.

"I like th' way y' think, cloth-boy. Maybe I'll try that,"

The stone bridge that crossed the river was quite weathered and cracked. It was even covered in green slime on the sides and bottom. The party was silent, following the outburst from earlier. Both Reuben and Alyndra felt justified in their actions and were not anywhere near apology to anyone. The path continued to wind through the grassy area towards the tower and they looked up at the foreboding structure as it grew in their sight. It was built of gray stone with many rectangular windows and artful stone carvings on the outside, but it was fair no more. An aura of decay and fear could be almost seen around it. The windows were shattered, for the most part, and the statues on the outside were defaced with horrifying scrawls and alterations. Even the greenery seemed to stay away, as a barren ring surrounded the structure for a few yards.

"Y' weren't kiddin'," Reuben commented, frowning at the tower. "Sure _looks_ cursed," Cerys studied the ground as they went.

"Someone's been here, like Isobel said," she announced. "They came on a horse," She looked around. "There ain't no horses 'round, though,"

"Quite the riddle..." Alyndra muttered. They halted as they came to the archway, eyeing the broken doors and unwilling to cross the threshold and enter the dusk within.

"There's somethin' tryin' ta make us too scared ta enter," Cerys grunted, resisting the force of it.

"Tch...ain't nothin' keepin' me out," Reuben entered, sword and shield ready. The others followed him cautiously, emboldened just enough by his foolhardiness, but still feeling a mental and spiritual weight press on them as they crossed the ancient flagstones and caught the scent of rotting timber, paper, and flesh.

"Odd..." Bryston whispered, white with fear. "I don't detect any Undead on this floor,"

"Doesn't mean there ain't other stuff..." Cerys shot back. "Anybody got some light?"

"I do," Alyndra held out her hands. "Dancing Lights!" Four glowing, white spheres appeared in a square, ten feet apart from each other. They squinted in the sudden brightness, but soon saw shattered statues, smashed armor, and bits of bone and rotted flesh.

"Someone's beat us ta it!" Reuben exclaimed. "Let's find out who!" He continued forward. The others followed, ready for a fight. The lights traveled with them and illuminated old, rotting shelves. Few books were on them and quick glances revealed that they were common books that could be found anywhere. They came, at length, to curving stairs on the far wall. They began to ascend them cautiously, pausing when they heard the ringing of a sword and the whoosh of magic.

"That must be 'r myst'ry man," Cerys noted. "Let's go help 'im!" They hurried up the stairs, soon spotting a figure in white slashing aside animated statues with a blade that glowed before each strike and disintegrating armed Skeletons and Human Zombies. The Skeletons were armed, though not armored, and made facial expressions, mostly of anger, despite their lack of eyes. Some lacked some teeth, ribs, fingers, or toes. The Zombies still had eyes, but they were dead and glazed and filled with an unholy red light. The greenish flesh hung loosely to their bones, some of which showed through gaps, and chunks were missing from some of the more meaty and tight-fitting parts, leaving red, rotting flesh exposed and oozing something nauseating. Despite this, the battle was joined.

"Turn!" Bryston pointed at some of the Undead. Several Skeletons looked troubled before they crumbled to dust. Reuben cut two statues down as they charged the mystery man.

"Fireball!" Alyndra's spell eradicated several Skeletons and Zombies. Cerys stood by, unsure how she should help. Arrows might not be effective here, despite what Alyndra had said. She settled for rushing to help Reuben with several animated suits of armor that had just appeared from the gloom. The mystery man Turned some more Undead, making them crumble to dust. Bryston did the same with his next turning. Reuben blocked a falchion, turning it aside, and rent a suit's arm off, before cutting it in half, causing it to crumple to pieces. Cerys ducked a swing from another suit and sliced it up the front before shoving it over to make it fall apart. Finally, all the foes were dispatched, for the moment.

"Thank you," the mystery man removed his helmet to reveal flowing blond hair to his shoulders and his green eyes showed in the Dancing Lights. "I didn't expect to find help in such a wretched place as this, but help unlooked for is twice welcome, as they say," His white metal cuirass, gauntlets, greaves, helmet, heavy steel shield, and cloak were all lined with gold and the golden cross of the church of Angelick was emblazoned on all of them.

"You must be a Paladin! I'm honored!" Bryston bowed. The man smiled.

"I'm also glad to see a Cleric of Angelick out in the world. I'm Malakai Elliot," the Paladin answered courteously, returning the bow.

"Bryston Cross," the Cleric introduced himself.

"Cerys Hunter,"

"Alyndra Virnan, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she curtsied.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Elf," he replied with another little bow, kissing her hand.

"Oh, no, I am not yet of requisite age for that sobriquet," she murmured, falling silent and averting her gaze.

"Wow, ya made her speechless," Reuben came up and shook Malakai's hand, never faltering in his sarcastic demeanor. "How do ya do it? I'm Reuben Nieves,"

"C-Charmed," the Paladin looked like he didn't know what to say to this.

"So why are you here, Sir Malakai?" Bryston inquired of the taller man as Cerys searched the rotting shelves nearby with Alyndra, whom she had nudged into helping and was teasing in the background.

"It is my duty in life to smite evil wherever and whenever it congregates," the Paladin answered confidently. "Are you not here for a similar reason, Cleric Cross?"

"On my part, yes. My companions, however, are here to retrieve an ancient tome that was abandoned here in years past," the Cleric responded.

"Hmm...well, it seems our paths are united, for the moment, and I could use some assistance," Malakai turned to Reuben, who scowled at him, in return. "Your swordsmanship isn't too shabby, if I may say so,"

"Better th'n anything you'll learn in a church, anyway," the Fighter stated bluntly. Malakai laughed.

"Maybe so. Of course we all think that our way is the best," he said conversationally. Reuben rolled his eyes.

"You two done yet?" he called crossly across the room.

"There ain't nothin' really here," Cerys reported as she and Alyndra, flustered from the aforementioned teasing, returned to the group. "Nothin' uncommon, anyway,"

"If tradition serves at this locale as with others, the Book of Gold will be at the zenith of the tower," Alyndra suggested, fighting away her blush.

"Ah, that is a treasure to be seeking, indeed!" Malakai proclaimed with interest. "We should find it, forthwith!"

"Calm down, captain light, we still gotta slaughter our way up," Reuben shook his head, frowning.

"Right! Behind me!" deciding the ignore the sudden sardonic moniker, the Paladin re-donned his helmet and took the lead in guiding the party to the next staircase, which was positioned as the one on the previous floor had been. It must have been the almost visible aura of courage coming from Malakai, but the terror of the tower no longer ate at the quartet and they felt confidence return to them. They proceeded slowly up the stairs, the Paladin's head turned from side to side, trying to ascertain the location of enemies in the gloom. Both he and Bryston detected many Undead on the floor. The Dancing Lights slowly came up after them, illuminating the room gradually, revealing many forms. Several animated statues of ancient heroes swarmed them with their stone weapons as they became lit. Reuben and Malakai blocked two of them with their shields while Alyndra and Bryston repelled the stony attackers with spells.

"Searing Light!" a ray of light cut through one of the statues and several behind it, crumpling them and some Undead, as well as burning a hole in the tower wall behind them.

"Lightning Bolt!" forks of lightning shot from Alyndra's hands, scorching and shattering the statue in front of her, as well as any foes behind it for potentially one hundred twenty feet, a hole would have been blasted in the tower wall if she hadn't stopped the spell before that. The Fighter and Paladin cut down their statues and went to work fencing with the armed Skeletons. Fortunately, Skeletons have no imagination or independent thought and were poor fighters.

"Turn!" Malakai destroyed a dozen of them. Reuben cleaved through some in succession with his Cleave skill.

"Turn!" Bryston also disintegrated many Zombies.

"Fireball!" Alyndra did so, as well. Cerys felled many with her arrows, wondering how a piercing weapon would kill them, but a slashing weapon was less effective. Of course, the Skeletons were not so easy to down with arrows, but that was more because of a lack of spots to be hit, rather than being unharmed by them. Several retaliating arrows flew past, fired by bow-wielding Skeletons on the far side of the room.

"Fireball!" Alyndra hurled another spell at said archers, incinerating them. The floor became quiet as the last foe fell. Alyndra sat down for a moment, starting to feel fatigued, as did Bryston.

"Warm work, eh?" Cerys teased, kneeling to look at Bryston. "Probably shouldn't've tried ta take so much o' th' load,"

"Can you two continue?" Malakai asked worriedly. "I don't want to get you killed on account of not letting you rest,"

"Meh, don't think we need 'em," Reuben noted checking his sword for damage. "The stuff here's child's play,"

"Don't get cocky, Reuben," Cerys cautioned, checking on Alyndra now. "We could do wit' a rest. The monsters don't seem ta wanna leave their floor so it ain't likely they'll come after us," Malakai shrugged.

"If you insist," he turned to stand guard, watching the spot where the next staircase was.

"I'm sorry to be such a bother," Bryston apologized.

"Ya ain't. Despite what Reuby says," Cerys comforted.

"Stop callin' me that!" he barked, pulling a moldy book off the shelf and squinting at the title. He snorted in disgust and threw the book aside. Cerys sighed and went to help look around. Reuben didn't really seem to take much time to look at the books, anyway, and throwing them would likely damage some of them, judging by their condition.

A chill wind blew in from the broken windows and rain lashed the sides of the tower as the bad weather returned in full force. Cerys brought a stack of books over to the two resident scholars as they reclined on the floor.

"Whaddaya make o' these?" she questioned. Bryston and Alyndra looked over them casually, brightening a bit when they read some of the titles.

"These are somewhat uncommon!" the Elf maiden commented. "They may be worth retaining,"

"And this one is in quite good condition!" the Cleric added. Cerys dug around in her satchel while they talked.

"Shit...c'mon, where is it?" she pushed some things aside. "Hmm...aha!" She pulled out a bottle of green liquid. "Thought I had some left,"

"Ah! That is a vial of Lesser Restoration Potion!" Alyndra brightened at once.

"Yep. Just need ta split it b'tween th' two o' ya an' you'll be up 'n about again," she handed it over. Alyndra removed the cork with skill, allowing the pungent aroma to permeate from the bottle. She took a careful swig of it and handed it to Bryston. He blushed as he took it. "C'mon! A little indirect kiss ain't gonna hurt ya!" Alyndra blushed, too, at the implication. Bryston chugged down the rest of the bitter liquid and felt some of his fatigue lift from him. Reuben looked disgusted at the concept of kissing the Elf.

"Well, if yer done makin' out, we got a tower ta conquer," he commented sourly, heading past Malakai's vigil and towards the stairs. The Wizard and Cleric got back to their feet, still embarrassed, and followed them, Cerys on their tail, smiling like a loon.

* * *

A horde of Skeletons came at them the moment Reuben set foot on the fourth floor. A blade glanced off of his cap as he ducked and thrust his blade upward into a skull, killing its owner. Malakai leapt forward, Turning many of the Skeletons to dust. Cerys sprang up, reusing some arrows to down some Zombies and a couple of statues. Alyndra and Bryston hung back this time, only attacking if they were directly threatened and using weak spells or melee attacks, then. Bryston smashed a Zombie with his quarterstaff while Alyndra repelled a statue with a pair of Magic Missiles as Malakai, Cerys, and Reuben sized up a large statue of a warrior with a sword and shield. Its swings were wide and hard to dodge. The Mercenary was knocked backwards from trying to block one of them and Cerys's arrows bounced off of the shield. He jumped up as Cerys put an arrow through the statue's face as it turned and blocked a strike from Malakai. The injury may or may not have been bad, but it had distracted the foe and it made for the Huntress. Malakai took the opportunity to cut one of the legs from under the statue from behind. It wobbled unsteadily and Reuben, ducking a wild flail of the stone blade, put forth his strength to sever the other leg. It fell with a crash, splintering into thousands of pieces and showering them with rubble. Reuben frowned at some of the scratches on his armor and the damage to his blade and kicked some of the remains of the statue.

"How many more floors 'r there?" Cerys requested, recovering her increasingly-damaged arrows. Only a few were still fit for use.

"There should be only five," Bryston explained, checking the party for wounds and patching flesh and steel. "This is the fourth," He might have fixed some of Cerys's arrows but neither thought of it and it would, likely, have been exhausting.

"Who apperceives what abominations may await at the apex?" Alyndra ajoined.

"Whatever it is, I know that we're about to find out what the curse on this place really is," Malakai declared. "I will not falter,"

"That goes wi'out sayin', knight-boy," Reuben grumbled. The lightning rumbled outside, flashing dramatically though the tower, and rain pounded the spire as they ascended the last steps, smelling the scent of rotting flesh growing ever stronger. The top floor was a large, open room. A small altar sat at the other end and a figure sat at it, clad in tattered black robes. His skeletal head was tilted down as he read from a gilded book that he held in his bony hands.

"Ah, so the intruders finally come in to ruin my reading," the figure looked up, closing the book. His glowing red lights where the eyes should have been in the sockets of his pale and taut face showed them what they were dealing with.

"Foul Lich! You do not belong in this plane!" Malakai shouted. "The divine light will send you to Hell!" Only the Aura of Courage that emanated from the Paladin protected them from the crippling Aura of Fear that radiated from the Lich. The two auras counteracted each other, causing a zero-sum net effect. He rose, chuckling and putting the book down gently on the book altar, covering it with a protective case.

"Now, now, that's no way to talk to an old Wizard," the Lich grinned wickedly. "I'll have to turn you into my Undead servants for trespassing in my tower! Magic Missile!" He fired a trio of Magic Missiles at the group. Malakai and Reuben blocked them with their shields as Cerys unleashed arrows.

"Searing Light!"

"Fireball!" The two spells collided with the Lich as he staggered slightly from the arrows. He was only mildly inconvenienced by even the holy spell that should have been more effective against an Undead.

"Ice Storm!" a miniaturized hailstorm appeared over the party, pelting them with large chunks of ice. They scattered, shielding themselves as best they could, running out from under the blue clouds. Reuben charged at the Lich, sword ready. "Fire Shield!" Flames wreathed the monster, causing Reuben nigh unbearable pain from the heat as he struck at its Undead flesh. He jumped back, as did the Lich. Several more arrows flew at the creature. "Wall of Force!" It cried. The arrows bounced off of an invisible barrier, clattering to the floor. Malakai attacked, his sword glowing white with power, only to have it bounce off the wall as well.

"Heal Moderate Wounds!" a blue light shot from Bryston's hand, on the other side of the room, engulfing Reuben and healing his burns. He stubbornly attacked the Lich as the flames around him faded. The Wall of Force was gone, having been only brief, but the Lich wasn't done yet.

"Fireball!" the fiery explosion staggered the Fighter, but didn't stop him. A gash was dealt across the Lich's chest, causing him to let out a piercing cry that stunned the two swordsman. The Lich dodged two arrows as he backed up, knocking Malakai and Reuben back with Magic Missiles. "Summon Monster Five! Come, Fiendish Tiger!" a glowing circle appeared in front of the Lich and a giant, blue and white tiger jumped out, growling. "Kill them!" It pounced on Malakai, only to be caught by his flashing blade and Cerys's last arrows. It growled and slashed, knocking Reuben aside. It staggered, though, from a Fireball and a Searing Light spell that scorched its foul, otherworldly flesh. Reuben struck back, swiping at its leg, but it jumped away, springing nimbly back to the Lich and then towards the two mages. Alyndra and Bryston dived out of the way, the former countering with Magic Missiles. The others made to help them, but the Lich had other plans. "Wall of Fire!" A wall of crimson flame cut the room in two. "You're not helping them!"

"You insane bastard!" Malakai attacked the Lich, who finally pulled out a dagger and proceeded to engage the Paladin in melee combat, occasionally taking a potshot with Magic Missiles. Cerys and Reuben jumped in as well, but the Lich was quite agile and his sneak attacks with Magic Missiles and penalizing them with his Fire Shield made the battle frustrating as well as dangerous. The shield burned anyone that struck the Lich and Bryston was not able to heal them. Cerys wouldn't have the time or the potency.

Alyndra dodged the tiger again, blasting it with a Scorching Ray and leaving another scorch mark that was barely visible in the flickering flames of the fire wall. Bryston attempted another Searing Light, but was forced to abort when the tiger came at him. He swung hard with his quarterstaff, only to have it slashed asunder. The tiger's jaws opened but he quickly struck it in the eye with a Searing Light. It roared in agony, barely missing him with its angry retaliation as he scurried away, trying to avoid the flame wall. Alyndra panted, already exhausted again as the creature flailed around. Suddenly, it turned and charged at her.

"Shit!" she shouted in Elvish.

Reuben was knocked back again, stunned, as the Lich continued to refuse to die. Malakai had tried Turning him, but it didn't work, as he was too powerful. Cerys had even stabbed him in the head, but he just repelled her and pulled the knife out, now dual-wielding knives at them.

'What's it take ta kill this bastard?' the Fighter shook off his dazedness and stood again, glad that he hadn't hit the fire wall, though he had come close. He glanced over, wondering how the two mages were doing. Malakai and Cerys were, again, stunned, and blasted away as he checked.

"Pathetic! You kids couldn't kill a sickly dog!" the Lich taunted, allowing the Huntress and Paladin to get back up, in his arrogance.

"We'll see, foul construct! Bless Weapon!" Malakai engaged the Lich again, his blade glowing gold instead of its usual white. The Lich attempted to deflect another attack, but his black dagger finally shattered under the force of the Blessed blade and his arm was cut asunder, bursting into dust. The Lich staggered backwards, attempting a spell, only to be bashed in the face with a shield. Another slash split the monster in half, causing him to scream and disintegrate, leaving a black book behind. The Paladin heard a commotion and turned to find another situation that he had missed while focused on the fight, however.

"Shit!" Alyndra shouted in Elvish as the tiger charged at her, ready to tear her head off. She wouldn't get out of the way in time, her muscles were too sluggish. She raised her arms in futility to try and ward off the blow, but was suddenly tackled out of the way. A mailed figure was pinned against the wall, foot-long fangs piercing his armor.

"Reuben!" she shouted, confused. He snarled, trying to repel the tiger with his blade, to little effect. Changing his grip, he drove the blade into the beast's skull with all his strength, piercing its brain. It gave a gurgling growl before slumping to the floor, dragging the Fighter with it, and then it faded away, leaving the sword behind. Reuben slumped over as the fire faded, burned badly and bleeding out from deep puncture wounds. Bryston and Alyndra ran to his side. The Cleric's hands shook as he mustered up the last of his strength.

"Angelickdamn...tiger..." the Fighter gurgled.

"Be silent!" Alyndra scolded fearfully. "You will exacerbate the trauma," Cerys came rushing over, also worried.

"Cure Serious Wounds!" Bryston cried, covering the Fighter with orange light and mending his wounds, bit by bit. Malakai came running up, seeing what was going on.

"Cure Light Wounds!" he added, adding a green glow to the orange.

"Th' hell's up wit' ya, Reuben?" Cerys shook her head as he slowly stabilized. "Firs' ya try 'n fuckin' kill 'er, now ya get nearly fuckin' killed _fer_ 'er. Make up yer bloody mind!"

"Can it..." he muttered, exhausted. Once they were sure that he was alright, the Paladin and Cleric went about healing the others and repairing equipment.

"You look tired, Cleric Cross," Malakai observed. "Allow me. Lesser Restoration!" A silver mist flew from Malakai's hand and into Bryston. He felt his fatigue lift. "I would've used it earlier, but I was afraid that I'd need all my energy for the top floor. Boy, was I right..." He went tiredly back over to the black book that the Lich had dropped. Drawing his blade, he blessed it once more before driving the point through the book. It exploded into dust with a piercing scream that startled everyone else.

"What th' hell was that!" Cerys demanded, trying to calm her heart.

"It was the Lich's phylactery. In his arrogance, he kept it on him, rather than hiding it," Malakai explained. "If he had, he would be able to return, but it's gone, so he is too,"

"Thank the Lord Angelick," Bryston sighed, finally done with the after-battle cleanup. If only he had a spell for cleaning out bloodstains and gore. Reuben got to his feet, grumbling and still relatively tired, judging by how he was trying to use his sword as a prop. Bryston noticed this. "Lesser Restoration!" He leaned on his newly repaired quarterstaff as his energy transferred to the Fighter. He gave a vague nod in the Cleric's general direction and went slowly over to the case that the golden book had been placed in. The others also gathered round to see it.

"Et mihi de auro," Malakai read from the gilded cover as he opened the case. "This must be what you're looking for,"

"Indeed," Bryston lifted the heavy tome and carefully stowed it away.

"I would delight in perusing it, if only for a moment," Alyndra sighed, despite her tiredness.

"Ya may well get th' chance," Cerys commented, peering out one of the windows. "It's gettin' on in th' day an' th' storm's not lettin' up,"

"You mean we have ta camp in this dump?" Reuben frowned, crossing his arms.

"I don't like that idea," Bryston agreed, looking around at the gore smeared around the chamber.

"It's either that 'r out in th' storm," Cerys argued. "I don't like it anymore 'n you do,"

"At the very least, we should camp on the ground floor. It's...cleaner," Malakai suggested.

"Fair enough," Cerys concurred. They left the dank chamber that reeked of fire and death and made their way back down the stairs. They were cautious, but nothing remained on the lower floors but dust and moldering books. A harsh wind blew through, occasionally spattering them with rain, but they were able to take it slow and easy. It wasn't long before they were back on the ground floor. Reuben and Malakai set about making makeshift wind stops out of bookshelves while Cerys gathered up bits of furniture and fashioned a fire. They sat down around it and gratefully took their evening meal. Even jerky, dried fruit, and dried bread chased with water tasted like mana from the heavens at the moment. Well, that was a bad example, as the food and drink created by a Create Food and Water spell tended to taste terrible and was basically mana, but the food was good after their struggles.

"So, Malakai, where 'r ya headin' next?" Cerys questioned conversationally, once they had supped and were relaxing around their little fire while Alyndra and Bryston absorbed themselves in the Book of Gold.

"Probably back east. I only came here because I heard of the Undead in this tower and had to smite them," the Paladin responded.

"I see...well, we're goin' back ta Honeyhorn in th' mornin'. Shame ya cain't come wit'," the Huntress sighed.

"Duty can be a burden, at times," Malakai said with a smile. Reuben stared at the fire, thinking about the day's events.

'I _must_ be goin' nuts.' he thought. 'I was willin' ta skewer th' Elf bitch this afternoon 'n then I jump through a fuckin' wall o' fire ta save 'er...' He bitterly smashed some of their gathered fuel and quickly threw it on the fire to cover up the action. There was silence for a while as conversation died down. Bryston passed out near the fire, curled up with his pack, which now held the book again. Reuben nodded off, still sitting up, head drooping forward. Alyndra and Cerys looked at each other across the fire as Malakai slipped into slumber, as well, reclined against their makeshift barrier. The Elf moved over to sit by the Huntress, careful not to disturb Bryston.

"Still shocked from earlier? Nearly dyin'll do that ta someone," Cerys whispered, grinning.

"No...well, yes, but I am disharmonious," the Elf murmured back. "What occurred?"

"Dunno. I turned an' saw ya were in trouble 'n then Reuben jumped through th' fire wall while I was tryin' ta figure out what th' hell ta do. Dumbest an' coolest thing I ever seen 'im do. He moved like a lightnin' bolt 'n pushed ya outta th' way. That's all I seen that you di'n't," Alyndra studied her boots.

"I never conceived that I would feel gratitude towards that-" she said a word in Elvish. Cerys chuckled, putting a hand on the Elf's shoulder.

"Neither did I, 'lyndra. Ya know how that turned out..." the Huntress looked over a him. "Ya may jus' help 'im get over this thing he's got wit' Elves..."

"I puzzle over the provenance of the loathing," Alyndra hummed.

"Who knows, 'sides 'im? Best not nose in 'r we'll get it broken," Cerys shrugged.

"I can attest to that fact," Alyndra smiled.

"Still...now ya got two guys after yer affections. Lucky girl," the Huntress teased. Alyndra flushed and slapped Cerys's shoulder.

"Silence! That is not legitimate!" she frowned as the Huntress's laughter echoed through the tower, a sound of merriment that hadn't been heard there for ages.

The sun rose clearly, the next morning. The sky was still somewhat overcast, but the weather was clear enough and the clouds had significant breaks in them. Malakai was the first up. He stretched out his stiff limbs and stoked the fire back to life. Soon enough, the others began to rouse themselves, with Reuben's usual grumbling, compounded with complaints about nodding off in his armor. They breakfasted, speaking of casual things. It wasn't long before they were extinguishing the fire and getting their things together.

"Are you certain that you will not accompany us?" Alyndra asked as they left the tower and looked up at the vibrant blue sky. Isobel swooped down and greeted Cerys happily as she wolf whistled in the background at Alyndra.

"No, I am afraid not," Malakai shook his head, fortunately not noticing the blush that appeared on the Elf's face from the whistle. "I wish all of you the best though. May the Lord Angelick see you to your journey's end,"

"May the Lord Angelick see you to your journey's end," Bryston repeated back. They bowed to each other and then the Paladin walked a few paces away from the group.

"So where's yer horse? I saw tracks on th' way here," Cerys posed.

"She's around..." Malakai whistled loudly. "Mya!" A pure white horse faded into existence near the bridge and trotted over, nuzzling the Paladin's neck. Her raiment was white and gold, like his armor, and bore the same golden cross.

"She's pulchritudinous," Alyndra sighed. As usual, she had a love for animals.

"Yeah, she is, if that means beautiful," Malakai agreed, allowing Alyndra to pet her. Mya seemed to enjoy the attention, making noise of affection. After a moment of this, the Paladin climbed onto the horse and settled himself in the saddle.

"May we meet again!" he spurred Mya and she took off with a speed that no normal horse could match. They quickly passed out of sight.

"So is the legendary horse of a Paladin, summoned from another plane," Bryston noted, impressed.

"Wish I had a horse..." Reuben grumbled, still stretching his sore limbs.

"Guess we know what ta get ya fer yer birthday, then, Reuby," Cerys teased.

"Stop callin' me that, dammit!" he barked. Alyndra sighed, looking heavenward.

'What shall we encounter next, I wonder?'

* * *

 **If I haven't caused shipping yet, I'm doing something wrong. Mwa, ha, ha...Malakai will be back, or I plan on it, anyway, so don't be disappointed if you like him. Critiques are still appreciated. Always nice to know what works and what needs to be worked on.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Lot of ground covered today. Guess that's what happens when there's less detail to be said. Usual warnings, usual disclaimer. Have fun.**

* * *

Lostvault Tower sank behind them as they headed back the way they had come, It looked as forlorn as before, but with the aura of evil fading from it. Different was the group that headed back to Honeyhorn. The fire of battle had literally and figuratively forged changes within the group. Their hoods were up against the sun that shined down on the world as the clouds fled north to dump their snows somewhere colder, where they wouldn't become rain. The group was silent, for the most part, busy with their own thoughts. Isobel swooped around the party in wide circles, cawing. Alyndra watched her with a smile.

'Damned armor...why'd I sleep in it?' Reuben shifted uncomfortably, to little effect. 'Well, s'pose I wa'n't gonna give 'em a strip show...why'm I travellin' wit' women in th' firs' place?' He reconsidered. 'Well, I still don't have ta like it.'

'I wonder what the nobles of Castlepass want with this book?' Bryston wondered, glancing towards his bag. 'Are they intending to locate one of the relics described within? What end would that prove? Mayhap they merely wish to put it in their records. That seems more reasonable.'

'I sure got in wit' a odd group.' Cerys thought, watching her animal companion soar around. 'Chatterbox Elf, timid Cleric, indecisive and crazy Fighter...Mom always said ta be careful o' yer friends. Wonder if this's what she was talkin' 'bout?' Her thoughts turned to the book that they'd retrieved. 'I smell trouble from this 'un. Any time blue bloods wanna get somethin' rare 'n valu'ble like this, it don't ever end well.'

'Isobel is so alluring. I envy Cerys moderately...' Alyndra paused in her bird watching and glanced back at Reuben as he shifted his arms and shoulders for what had to be the fiftieth time that morning. 'He could simply appeal to Bryston or Cerys for aid with his discomfort. I suppose that he is too proud for that, though.' He gave a growl and shifted again, muttering curses. 'He is an enigma...but I presume that I should extend recognition for his act of heroism, though he will presumptively repudiate it.' He looked up and caught her staring.

"The fuck ya want, Elf?" he growled, more angry at his discomfort than at her, she deduced.

"I feel that I am beholden to grant you gratitude for your sacrifice on my behalf, Reuben," she said as sincerely as she could. "I owe you my life,"

"Meh...not sure why I bothered, but whatever," he shrugged, looking away. Alyndra frowned. "Ain't nothin' ta thank me for," She turned back to the road, realizing that he probably wasn't used to being thanked outright like this, especially by people that he was regularly harsh towards. He was probably also unused to getting much but venom from her when she wasn't being obnoxious, but she didn't think of this.

"I'm sure hopin' that there's horses available when we get back," Cerys announced, breaking up the awkward moment. "I'm a woodsperson an' _I'm_ tired o' walkin' ever'where,"

"I'm uncertain that I know how to ride a horse," Bryston commented, worried.

"Ah, don' worry, cloth-boy. I'll show ya th' ropes!" the Huntress clapped him on the shoulder.

"That'll be a laugh," Reuben interjected, coming out of his thoughts.

"Are _you_ proficient at riding a horse?" Alyndra asked. "I have yet to do so, myself,"

"Of course I am, Elf," he cocked an eyebrow. "Don' be thinkin' I'll get all chummy wit' ya an' teach ya, neither,"

"I'd likely be better off learning from Cerys, anyway," the Elf shrugged nonchalantly.

"She's right, Reuben," Cerys grinned. "I'm better wit' animals 'n you," He growled.

"Shut the hell up, both o' ya!" he pushed past the group and hurried on.

"Teamwork. Makes teasin' easier," the Huntress chuckled.

"I begin to understand your taste for it," Alyndra remarked, giggling too.

"I'm still not sure, myself..." the Cleric said helplessly. Cerys put an arm around him.

"I got a lot ta teach ya, kiddo!" she pulled him along with her.

"Heard about yer exploits," the gate guard informed them as they came back to the northeastern gates of Honeyhorn. "Nice work,"

"It was nothin'," Cerys responded.

"Tell that ta m' bruises..." Reuben grumbled quietly.

"Well, Sir Hamilton is waitin' fer ya at the pub," the guard explained. "I got yer names. Go on in," The portcullis rose for them to enter.

"'Bout time they started treatin' us better..." Reuben observed as they passed through.

"They seemed heckled," Cerys asserted as the portcullis closed behind them and they headed back down the street that they had passed up the day before. "This Hamilton guy's likely a big wig from Castlepass,"

"Hmm..." Reuben mentally went over all the Knights that he knew from Castlepass. There had been a few in his past. "Don't ring a bell,"

"Well, we'll find out, soon enough," Bryston said optimistically. "Though I'm sorry to hand away the book so soon. I wished to study it more,"

"As did I," Alyndra agreed.

"Books're overrated," Reuben waved his hand dismissively.

"The legendary artifacts are the antecedent of the contemporary course of civilization," Alyndra explained. "Knowledge of them could be instrumental in effecting revolution on a grandiose scale,"

"And here we are handin' it off ta blue bloods..." Cerys shook her head.

"Contract's a contract. Don' want 'em after _our_ heads," the Mercenary grunted.

"True. We've already given our word. The Lord Angelick punishes dishonesty," Bryston agreed.

They came to the square, finding all of the inhabitants nervous. The reason becoming obvious as they spotted two men in full plates, complete with helmets with visors, gauntlets, greaves, and heavy shields. They bore tridents and had longswords at their hips and wore red and silver cloaks, also with the emblem of the Royal Army on it. Their chest plates were both emblazoned with the red shield and golden crown of Falo. One of the two men went into the inn, which they were in front of, as soon as he spotted the quartet. Nervous, the party approached the other man. He raised his visor and frowned at them.

"Sir Hamilton awaits you within," he said with a posh accent. He gestured them inside curtly. Reuben frowned at the man, but he had already put his visor back down and went back to his vigil. As the party entered, they found the usual cheerful atmosphere replaced with one of tension and silence. It was obvious why as they spotted a black-haired man sitting at a table in the corner, an ale untouched in front of him. He was clad as the others, but his armor was golden, rather than silver, and also decorated with other emblems, belonging to a Baron, by the looks of it, in addition to the royal crest of Falo. His brown eyes turned to them and he beckoned them over, handing his distinctive, devil-horned, visored helmet to the soldier next to him. Since he had dragged another table over, they were able to all sit across from him. He examined them with eyes that were dark, cold and unkind, but he still smiled and put on a false sense of social propriety.

"Good afternoon, adventurers," he began in the same high-class accent as his soldier. "I heard that someone had taken the job that I requested, so I came here to meet them. Word has reached my ears, however, that you are already done with the task. How delightful," He sounded anything but jovial. "I have your payment right here," he held up a bag of coin. "Provided you hand over the Book of Gold, first," Bryston hesitantly put it on the table. Sir Hamilton quickly pulled it towards himself while also shoving the bag towards the party. Reuben palmed it immediately, as though afraid the man would go back on his word. "That seems to be in order, then." He rose, putting the book away in his satchel, which was concealed underneath his red and gold cloak, which was also emblazoned with his devices. "Your good health," he drained his mug. "I will remember you four and hope to see you again," He nodded to his soldier, donned his helmet again, and they both left. The pub slowly livened up again after the Knight's departure.

"Something about him is not kosher," Alyndra commented quietly. "His eyes were wintry and caliginous. No one should possess such eyes,"

"Not a pretty piece o' work. That I agree," Cerys nodded as Reuben split up their take, though he tested the coins with his sword pommel first.

"Are all Knights like that?" Bryston asked, dismayed. "I was told that Knights are noble and kind,"

"Knights're servants o' their liegelord, nothin' more," Reuben stated coldly. "Noble Knights on pretty horses're fairy tales fer wee brats,"

"What of Malakai?" Alyndra contradicted.

"Exception, not th' rule, if even that. Only knew 'im fer less 'n a day," he shook his head, getting up and going to get a drink. Cerys sighed.

"World's not always as nice 'r pretty as yer parents tell ya in yer youth," she lamented. "Best accept it an' work 'round it. Lyin' ta yerself does nothin,"

"Words ta live by," Reuben set a full tray of tankards of whiskey on the table. Sitting down, he took one and took a swig, sighing at the burning sensation.

"Sure ya don' want one?" Cerys waved a tankard around enticingly.

"I have hardly even touched communion wine," Bryston shook his head. "I'd rather not,"

"And I still possess a distaste for your alcoholic refreshments. My apologies," Alyndra declined.

"Yer loss," Reuben muttered, taking another swig.

"I hope ya ordered some food while ya were up there," Cerys commented. Reuben glanced at her, rolled his eyes, and headed back to the counter, downing his drink.

"Is it just me or is he becoming more docile?" Bryston inquired.

"Nah, he's jus' got used ta puttin' up wit' us. Give 'im another bad day, an' he'll be back ta takin' swings at us," Cerys responded cheerfully.

"It mildly disturbs me that you bear so little concern for that," the Elf maiden added. The Huntress shrugged.

"Most mercenaries from 'is group woulda killed at leas' one o' ya, already," she elucidated. "Nicest you'll find among them Rough Blades," Reuben returned, another full mug in hand, and sat back down.

"Anythin' else, yer majesty?" he shot at the Huntress. The sarcasm was palpable.

"Got any choc'late?" she teased.

"Shut the hell up," he muttered. The conversation turned lighter as they relaxed and soon received their meal. Afterwards, they split off to study, train, etc. Cerys headed off to see about renting horses. Reuben set to asking about jobs and, after that, went to practice his Great Cleave in the old warehouse. No one would miss half that junk, anyway.

"Ev'rybody have a good day?" Cerys asked as they reconvened for the evening meal.

"Indeed. I have tremendously increased my knowledge of the history of Falo," Alyndra piped up. "Are you aware that, in the year 1022..." she went on in this vein for some time, aided and abetted by Bryston. Reuben finally cut in after forty minutes.

"An Angelickdamn yes woulda done fine, fuckin' chatterboxes," he shook his head, ignoring their own disapproving looks. Well, Alyndra looked more disapproving than Bryston, who just looked a bit hurt.

"Well, what'd you do, then, Reuby?" Cerys inquired. He flipped her off in reply to the nickname. She smirked and returned the gesture, mockingly.

"I talked ta th' keeper 'ere. Ain't no jobs 'round this dump," he revealed gruffly.

"Yeah, I figured that their big-ass security forces'd mean there ain't much help needed wit' that," Cerys answered. "Maybe we'd have somethin' ta do if there were convoys leavin', but there ain't. I checked while I was rentin' us some horses,"

"So we are abandoning Honeyhorn to transmit elsewhere?" Alyndra questioned.

"Better be somewhere wit' payin' work 'r I'm ditchin'," Reuben threatened. Bryston looked like he was about to object.

"Well, there's always work up in Stagdrift," the Huntress offered. "There's huntin', fishin', trackin', foragin', furrin'...lot's o' stuff," Reuben took a drink and didn't answer. "An' wit' horses, we'll be there in a day,"

"Mayhap we'll meet your parents there, Cerys," Bryston ajoined. She shrugged.

"Prob'ly. They're stubborn ol' goats. Dad dragged back a two hundred pound stag, th' other year,"

"Most impressive! I was unaware that Humans could be such sublime hunters!" Alyndra said, amazed. "Present company excluded,"

"Human's 'r good fer lots o' stuff," Reuben grumbled. "Y' damn Elves'd know that if ya'd quit hidin' in yer trees,"

"At least we appreciate them. Your countrymen consider them only as materials and fuel, by the appearance of it," she rejoined. A steak knife stuck, quivering ominously, in the table in front of the Elf.

"Next 'un won't miss," he warned, stealing Bryston's knife to finish cutting his meat. Cerys rolled her eyes and handed the crestfallen Cleric her knife, deciding to bite chunks off of the meat, instead.

"Now, now...Elves 'r good fer their own stuff too, I'm sure," the Huntress mediated between the steaming Elf and sneering Fighter. "Not surprisin' if we don' know much 'bout each other. We ain't always got along good, from what I hear. Only natural we ain't associatin' wit' each other much,"

"Ain't really interested in learnin' 'bout th' pointy-eared loonies," Reuben conveyed stubbornly. "Th' four I know already killed what interest I got,"

"Four?" Bryston queried timidly. "I only r-recall three, Reuben," The Mercenary's eyes flashed.

"Y' ain't been 'round fer m' whole life. Y' don' know how many I know," he got up and quickly left, almost smashing a hole in the wall as he punched it on the way up the stairs.

"Way ta go, Bryston," the Huntress commented, half-commending, half-scolding. "Ya hit a sore spot,"

"I-I didn't m-mean to," the Cleric stammered, genuinely upset.

"Perhaps this fourth Elf is the provenance of all this," Alyndra deduced.

"Maybe, but we won't be findin' out anytime soon," Cerys sighed, getting up from her seat. "I'm turnin' in. G'night,"

"Good night, Angelick bless you," Bryston replied. Alyndra echoed him.

"Stagdrift...I ponder what it is comparable to..." the Elf murmured thoughtfully, after the Huntress left.

"I've heard that it's high in the Stag Mountains, to the north. It's really cold and snowy for most of the year," Bryston reported.

"I have not seen snow before. It should be interesting,"

* * *

It was eleven in the morning when Reuben met the rest of the party at the stables near the northwestern gate of Honeyhorn.

"Guess it's too much ta hope that ya'd up an' ditch me," he muttered, squinting against the sun.

"Y' came ta meet us. Who's stickin' wit' who, 'ere?" Cerys challenged.

"Payin' work is payin' work," he parried her challenge nonchalantly.

"Whatever, Reuby," he glared at her. "At least yer sleepin' in gave me time ta teach cloth-boy 'n 'lyndra a bit 'bout ridin'," The two were sitting on their bay-colored horses, which caparisons marked with the Honeyhorn logo and the usual riding paraphernalia. Alyndra was murmuring to the horse in Elvish, scratching his ears affectionately. The horse seemed to be enjoying it. Bryston looked nervous on the back of his horse and Reuben was sure he would fall off once they got moving. Cerys pointed him to a black horse as she got on a flaxen chestnut one. He idly petted the horse, getting a cautious look. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya. Don' look at me like that," he muttered, mounting the horse and directing her to the gate. The portcullis opened as they approached, and they spurred the horses to a quick pace as they set off down the road. Bryston hung on for dear life, making his horse give him a reproachful look, as they sped along with the somewhat rapid clopping of hoofs. They continued like this for a bit before slowing to a more reasonable pace to cross the stone bridge that lay a mile or so from the fortress of Westhold.

"Westhold's nearby," Cerys informed the group as they crossed and continued to an extended crossroads at a slower but still brisk pace. "Ya cen see it, if ya look," She pointed to a tall, stone, circular wall, similar to the one of Honeyhorn, sitting atop a tall hill to the west. "Built back in th' days when Tweplund'd try 'n sneak through th' Old West Pass 'n attack us. Jus' a bandit deterrent, now,"

"The passage caved in long ago," Alyndra interjected. "The Falo military utilized such magic as they were able to conjure to constitute a rockslide. Many Elves met their demise in that despicable trap,"

"All's fair in war," Reuben shrugged. "Even dirty moves," Alyndra frowned.

"Or so our leaders'd have us believe," Cerys added.

They continued on, passing the road to the fort, and kept going north, going quickly enough, but not hurrying. There was no sense in running their horses to death. In time, the ground began to rise and the mountains came into clearer view than the vague peaks that they had seen upon setting out. The wind blew more chill and frost became more prominent on the ground, causing the party to pull their cloaks around them and bow their heads for more reasons than just the sun, which was now becoming somewhat obscured by clouds. Snow began to replace frost and soon swirled in front of them in flurries. Alyndra smiled, catching a flake in her hand and watching it melt. Bryston shivered, wishing that he'd thicker clothes. Reuben bore it in his stubborn way, though his armor helped, a bit, at least for his body. Cerys, being a Ranger and being from this type of clime, bore it the best; not that she wasn't chilly, herself. The path continued to wind upwards, now and then obstructed by rocks in spots. They rode around the obstructions without much effort, but the chilling cold was eating at them slowly and the light was fading, due to the cloud coverage. "Could use some light!" Cerys shouted over the gradually increasing wind.

"Dancing Lights!" Alyndra conjured four glowing spheres to drift around them and light the way a bit. The weather continued to slowly intensify as they proceeded. Cerys became worried that their mounts would collapse from the cold, as warm-blooded creatures are wont to do. She leant down and whinnied and snorted into her horse's ear. The horse made similar sounds back.

'Good. He ain't ready ta keel over jus' yet.' she glanced over at her companions. 'Cain't say th' same fer some o' m' fellas, though.' Bryston was shaking with bitter cold, barely staying on his horse. Alyndra saw this and rode alongside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Are you hale?" she inquired, trying to sound sympathetic but having to shout over the wind. The Cleric shook his head, unable to muster up any words. The Elf gave him a worried look and unclasped her green cloak, wrapping it about him and clasping it at his throat, pulling the hood up over his.

"W-What ab-bout y-you?" he shivered. She smiled, despite the snow piling up on her shoulders, already.

"Fire Shield!" an aura of flames wreathed her body, causing the snow to steam off and holding away the chill. Cerys smiled at the scene and glanced to Reuben, who was hunched over, snow laden heavily on him, grumbling under his breath, though she couldn't hear it.

"Don' worry, Reuby! Only a bit longer!" she yelled. He didn't react to her, whether he heard or not. She didn't blame him. She wasn't enjoying this, either, and she had a skill to help her endure these kind of things.

* * *

They weren't sure how long they rode on, but it became clear, soon enough, that they couldn't keep going on. The horses were faltering and the party was about frozen stiff to them. Cerys glanced around in the flickering and weakening lights, trying to discern where they were. Her recently learned Darkvision skill made this much easier. 'If I'm right in m' reckonin', there's a cave 'round here...found it!' She spotted the opening by the side of the road, right in the middle of a bend. "There's a cave we cen hide in!" she pointed towards it. The party gave little indication that they had heard her, but followed her, regardless. Ten frigid minutes later, they were inside the small cavern, leading the horses in with them. It was empty, save for the old remains of a campfire and some firewood stacked in the back. There was a large bolder near the entrance, which Cerys quickly labored to push. Reuben caught on after a couple of minutes, his wits slowed by cold, and helped move it over to mostly block the cave mouth, leaving only a small crack for venting. Alyndra struggled to drag some wood over to the small fire pit that had been dug in the cave floor, her fingers slipping on the damp surface as her power was waning and she could no longer keep up a Fire Shield and could barely keep the flickering lights present to see what she was doing. Bryston struggled equally as he helped. Once a couple of logs were piled up, Alyndra crouched, shivering, and lit the wood with her Burning Hands. The logs sputtered, but burned well enough as the Dancing Lights finally snuffed out. The two hunched over it, warming their numb hands, as the other two stumbled over, flopping down to do the same in the dim light. They didn't speak for a while, too cold and sleepy to bother. Reuben finally chucked a couple more logs on the fire, once the first two dried out enough, and rubbed his hands together.

"Let it be known that this shit was Cerys's idea," he grumbled.

"At least I knew where a place ta hide was," Cerys retorted. Bryston held his cloak around him tighter, having given Alyndra's back.

"Thank the Lord Angelick," he bowed his head and traced a weak cross on his chest.

"I perceive that snow is both alluring and pernicious," Alyndra shivered. "We should have brought warmer apparel,"

"Yeah...we should've. I di'n't think that it'd be so bad this early in th' year," the Huntress shook her head. "I shoulda known better,"

"Live 'n learn, or die," Reuben mumbled, reaching into his satchel to pull out some food. The others cottoned on to this and began to take a meal, themselves. One of the horses whinnied plaintively, causing Cerys and Alyndra to look at him. Cerys replied apologetically, going to get some oats and a feeding bag out of his saddlebags. She went to each of the horses and did the same before sitting back down. Reuben finished his meal and took a swig of water from his bottle. "Sure could use a stiff 'un, right now,"

"Well, we didn' stuff th' saddlebags wit' whiskey afore we left so tough," Cerys retorted, removing her satchel and lying down, using it as a pillow, and her cloak to cover up. Alyndra yawned, stretching, and imitated her. Bryston and Reuben stared at each other for a while, checking, periodically, to make sure that the women were asleep, before finally standing, turning away from each other, and removing their armor. Reuben laid down, now lighter, and colder, in his gray cloth tunic that he always wore underneath his gear. Bryston set his armor and weapon next to his pack and laid down too, using his cloak as a blanket.

"May the Lord Angelick bless us with restful sleep and pleasant dreams," he whispered. Reuben ignored him, already drifting off, snuggling under his cloak.

He woke to Cerys poking him and making muffled giggles. Reuben jerked awake.

"Shut up, fuckin' doxy. 'M not in th' damn mood fer yer motherfuckin' shenanigans..." he muttered, sitting up.

"Mornin', Reuby. Nice ta see ya wi'out armor, fer once," she smirked, examining his muscled arms and legs.

"Fuck off..." he muttered with an obscene gesture, getting up and vigorously rubbing his hands on his arms. Cerys stoked the fire back to life, throwing on a few more logs.

"Need some help gettin' that stuff back on?" she whispered, minding the still-sleeping Elf and Cleric.

"No," the Fighter hissed back, picking up his armor and pulling it on. Cerys glanced back to him as he donned his gauntlets. "Odd that these two're still nappin'. They're usually up afore me 'r at th' same time,"

"Prob'ly fuckin' tired. Made Elfy light th' damn way fer a couple hours, at least," Reuben shook his head, starting on his breakfast. Cerys peeked out the cave mouth.

"Well, we'll be startin' soon, so I best rouse 'em," she walked over, shaking Bryston. "Rise 'n shine, cloth-boy!" He moaned and put an arm over his face.

"Get th' fuck up!" Reuben barked. He jumped up, panicked. Alyndra jerked awake, Magic Missiles ready in her hands, and sprang up, ready for a fight. Cerys gave him a disapproving look. "Got th' lazy bastards up, di'n't it?" he defended, munching his jerky.

"You son of a bitch! I thought that we were being assailed! Do you have any concept how rapidly my heart is palpitating right now? Why are you such an unbearable bastard!" she continued on, in Elvish, in this vein for quite some time. Bryston gazed at her in shock, though he didn't understand a word of it. Reuben cocked an eyebrow while Cerys was torn between amusement and solemnity. Finally, the Elf halted in her tirade, panting for breath.

"'Bout done?" the Fighter inquired calmly. "Sheesh, an' I thought I was a son of a bitch in th' mornin'...You, Virnan, have proven me wrong and I doff my cap ta ya," He did so, though with much sarcasm. Alyndra stared for a bit, not sure whether to pick back up where she left off or not. She finally settled on re-donning her cloak and gracefully plopping down to eat, a coolly dignified look on her face. Not that all her movements weren't normally graceful. Bryston warily joined them. Cerys smiled and sat down too, pulling out some food.

"Nice ta be on th' receivin' end fer once, ain't it, Reuben?" she taunted.

"Meh. I'm used ta it," he responded mysteriously.

"What's that mean?" the Huntress rejoined, interested.

"Ta shut up, nosy wench," he finished, taking a swig of water.

'The Lord sends many tests, some of which I struggle to comprehend.' Bryston thought, still shaken from the morning's events, thus far.

The weather had cleared significantly from the previous day, they observed, as they exited the cave. There was still light snow, but the sun cut through the clouds and illuminated the road. Cerys shielded her hand and looked ahead.

"Pretty sure I cen see Stagdrift," she noted. She whistled and Isobel came flapping up after a few minutes, during which Bryston finally joined them, having been putting his armor back on in the cave. She chatted with the bird, briefly, learning that the bird had stayed the night in the town and that it was, indeed, not too far away. The eagle took off again, eager to get out of the cold, and the Huntress turned to the party, cloak already wrapped around her. "It's only an hour 'r two's journey. Let's make tracks,"

"I anticipate escaping from the frigid weather and observing your place of birth, Cerys," Alyndra replied as they mounted their steeds again. The horses complained of the cold, but were still compliant.

"Indeed. I have heard much of Stagdrift," Bryston concurred as they set off again.

"I'll give ya th' tour," Cerys grinned.

"I jus' wanna sample th' Stagdrift Brew," Reuben included. "'Sposed ta be good,"

"It's pretty good," Cerys confirmed. "Bit more bitter 'n yer average whiskey, but good,"

"Well, you were raised on it, so I ain't takin' yer word fer it," the Fighter returned.

"I still suspect that it will not surpass the brews of Magevault and Uls Edhil," Alyndra declared with certainty.

"Well, we ain't got fancy magicks ta bewitch th' tongue, but we got some good hops 'n whatnot from Stagdrift Woods," Cerys shrugged. "Might even get ta learn 'bout it, if ya go fetch some fer th' brewers,"

"Really?" the Elf's eyes lit up.

"Ya got her goin' again," Reuben rolled his eyes as Alyndra launched into another spiel about alcohol and its history.

"Sorry," Cerys whispered.

* * *

The trip was quick enough, only taking a couple more hours, as Cerys had said. The walls of sharpened wood and gates of the same material came into view as they ascended the tall peak that the hamlet rested on. There were guard towers, also made of wood, posted on either side of the two gates to town. A pair of Rangers stood in each, watching the roads with longbows in hand and chain shirts on their bodies, covered with a fur-lined, gray cloak. Two Fighters stood at the gate, bearing tridents and wearing metal cuirasses emblazoned with a stag that was covered with a light dusting of snow. They, too, wore gray cloaks lined with fur, longswords at their hips, and helmets were on their heads and gleamed in the sun.

"Hey! It's Cerys!" one of the guards, brunette with brown eyes, exclaimed. "How ya been?"

"Good 'nuff, Jordan," she replied with a smile. "How's m' mom 'n dad?"

"Pretty good. Dragged in a big ol' bear th' other day," Jordan answered. "I'll not keep ya from 'em,"

"Thanks, Jordan. Stay sharp," she nodded.

"Heh, thanks. You too," he allowed them by, looking at the others with curiosity.

"Good day," Bryston greeted politely, as he passed. Alyndra expressed the same sentiment in Elvish. Jordan and his mate looked bewildered at this.

"So 'r we gonna get set on 'cause o' th' Elf doxy?" Reuben asked bluntly as they walked down the snowy path, past many log houses covered in white, leaving their horses with the stable attendant near the gate. The attendant looked at the branded numbers on the horses and made a note in his log.

"Doubt it," the Huntress responded. "We never really cared fer none o' that shit. Live 'n let live. Break that rule, 'n y' ain't livin'. That's our policy,"

"An' a damn good 'un," Reuben agreed with a smirk. Alyndra looked around eagerly as they headed down the main thoroughfare, observing hunters skinning animals outside their houses, which made Bryston a bit queasy, people lugging firewood into their houses or up to their houses, and patrons going to and from the local pub. "Well, this's m' stop," The Fighter paused in front of the pub, The Laughing Doe.

"We might as well all stop here," Cerys commented. "I could use a drink, m'self," The quartet entered the building, grateful for the warmth that washed over them. "'Kay, I'll get some drinks. Ya sit down," She headed up to the counter while Reuben flopped down at the nearest table, glad that someone else was getting the drinks this time. The other two joined him, looking around at the décor. Antlers and stuffed heads and stuffed bodies of animals were mounted on the walls all around the pub, with a few weapons here and there, reflecting the culture of the town quite well.

"Ah! Cerys! Good ta see ya ag'in!" the barkeeper greeted jovially. "What cen I get ya?"

"Hi, Ben. Two ciders 'n two o' th' Stagdrift Brew," she answered cheerfully. He set about preparing the beverages.

"Got some friends wit' ya?" he inquired, nodding towards the rest of the party.

"Yeah. Long story, I met 'em in Oakenrest 'n hadn't had th' cause ta split wit' 'em yet," she explained offhandedly. "Kinda handy ta have 'round,"

"Great. Good ta see ya makin' friends outta town," he set the drinks on a tray and pushed it forward. "Twenty-seven gold, please," Cerys handed over the money and picked up the trays.

"If ya keep givin' discounts, I'll think yer hittin' on me," she teased. The man scratched a ragged sideburn on his scruffy, brunette head and rubbed his scraggly beard.

"Nah. I'm old 'nuff ta be yer dad," he joked back. They both laughed and Cerys went back to her companions.

"It is lovely to witness you reconnecting with old friends," Alyndra observed, grinning.

"Yeah..." the Huntress distributed the drinks.

"Lord bless you," Bryston gratefully took a cider and drank deeply, as did Alyndra. Cerys picked up her tankard and Reuben did the same. They both took a swig. The Fighter swished the drink around a bit before swallowing it.

"Not bad, I guess. Better 'n ale, anyway," he complimented.

"See? I'm right," Cerys jested.

"Lots o' town pride in ya, I see," Reuben countered.

"Touche," the Huntress admitted. "But I'm used ta it, like ya said,"

"Say, Cerys! Ya want some food while yer here?" Ben called from the counter.

"Nah!" she answered before anyone else could. "We're goin' ta m' parents after this an' ya know how Dad forces venison down yer throat!" Ben chuckled.

"That I do..." he muttered, amused. The quartet finished their drinks quickly and stood again.

"Bye, Ben! See ya 'round!" Cerys called.

"You too! Drop by anytime, kid!" he called back. The chill greeted them again as they returned outside, making their faces prickle.

"So where do your parents live, Cerys?" Bryston queried.

"'Round th' east wall o' town," the Huntress said. "Dad always said it was easier on 'im 'n Mom 'cause they didn' have ta drag their kills so damn far," She smiled at the memories.

"I will delight to make their acquaintance," Alyndra adjoined.

"Not if they're anythin' like Cerys," Reuben muttered, arms crossed and eyes closed.

"Oh, don' be that way, Reuby. Ya gotta meet m' folks! You'll need Dad's blessin'!" Cerys kidded.

"We ain't gettin' married. Hell, no!" Reuben shuddered. "Don' even kid 'bout it,"

"Oh, well, guess I'll have ta stick wit' Bryston," she threw an arm around the Cleric. Predictably, he turned bright red and started spluttering. Alyndra giggled behind her hand at the antics. Finally understanding the nature of this teasing.

"B-But we b-barely kn-know each other!" he whined, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment.

"Let 'im go, Cerys. Yer gonna break 'im," Reuben rolled his eyes. Cerys dropped the Cleric, causing him to drop into the snow with a muffled thud.

"Sorry, kid," she picked him up and set him down on his feet, brushing off some snow. "I'm jokin'. Ya should learn ta take one,"

"Y-Yes...of course..." he murmured. 'She is somewhat attractive, but the notion of marriage at this point in our relationship...' he reeled from the thought. Alyndra steadied him with one hand.

"You are rather skittish," Alyndra commented, amused. "It is adorable," she added in Elvish. Cerys was thinking the same thing.

"Are we goin' ta yer parents' 'r starin' at th' milk-blooded Cleric all day?" Reuben interrupted, forcing the girls' attentions, mercifully, away from Bryston.

"Dunno...I'm inclined ta stare at 'im," Cerys responded nonchalantly. Bryston flushed anew at the comment. Reuben frowned, arms crossed, fixing her with a patronizing glare. "But I guess we cen go if yer gonna get all jealous,"

"Like I want a Elf starin' at me like a piece o' meat, 'r you, either," he rolled his eyes again and set off along the road again. Cerys chuckled and moved to overtake him and lead them on. Soon enough, they came to a house that was back from the road a bit. It was near the perimeter wall, but had enough yard space for many drying racks of meat, two decently-sized sheds, furring tools, leather tanning stations, and large antlers over the door. "Think this's th' right place?" Reuben couldn't have been more sarcastic.

"Yeah, they're inta a buncha hobbies on th' side," Cerys mentioned, leading them to the door. She rapped on it a few times. Footsteps sounded inside, culminating in the door opening and a man that was a little taller than Cerys, with the same hair color and a matching beard, wearing a leather jerkin, being revealed. He grinned almost immediately, grabbing her in a hug.

"Cerys! Yer back!" he shouted, leaving her scrabbling to return the hug. "Lauren! Our little girl's back!"

"Dad, I'm twenty-nine, ya know. I could take offence," she pouted, drawing away as he finally let her go.

"Ah!" he waved his hand dismissively. "Ya cain't stay mad at yer daddy!" He grabbed her and dragged her inside.

"I see where she gets it from," Reuben smirked, entertained, as the other three stood outside. Cerys's dad came back to the door, after a moment and gestured eagerly.

"C'mon in, guys!" he shouted. The three looked at each other before following the overexcited, middle-aged man inside.

* * *

 **Looking over the characters' heights, I can see why Bryston comes across as the small, meek, adorable member of the group, at least in-universe. He's 5'5", Alyndra's 5'6", Cerys is 5'9 1/2", and Reuben is 5'10". Poor Cleric boy's the shortest of the lot! Kinda makes me chuckle. Critiques still appreciated.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**At last, chapter eight is ready! Warnings, disclaimers, etc. Story time!**

* * *

The house was homely enough. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace in the relatively large sitting area. Couches and chairs sat around said area, covered with comfortable furs. There was a nice bear skin rug in the middle of all the chairs and the walls were decorated as the ones at the pub were. The owners of the house likely had stuffed the animals and mounted them, personally.

"Cerys! It's been too long!" A woman with long, black hair was hugging Cerys over in the adjacent dining area, which was equipped with fur-lined chairs and a nice table made of oak. She was dressed as her husband and looked around the same age. "You should really come by ta see us more!"

"Mom...ya know I travel 'round a lot. Don' always got th' time," Cerys muttered apologetically. Her father eyed the other three jovially.

"So yer her friends, right?" he asked eagerly.

"That's a relative term," Reuben muttered as Bryston said,

"Indeed, good sir," and Alyndra said,

"That is accurate,"

"I'm Davon Hunter an' she's m' lovely wife, Lauren," he continued. Lauren pulled away from her daughter and regarded them coolly.

"Good ta meet ya," she spoke with less enthusiasm than her husband.

"Reuben Nieves, Bryson Cross, and Alyndra Virnan," Cerys introduced, gesturing to each with the names.

"Ah, an Elf, eh?" Davon interrupted, seeing Alyndra's ears as the party removed their hoods. "Always heard ya were good hunters. Got any tips?"

"Davon," Lauren interrupted before Alyndra could reply. "Ain't ya got no hospitality? Offer 'em some food 'n drink," Davon slapped his forehead and hurried off to the kitchen.

"Always forgettin' somethin'! That's me!" he shouted from the other room. There was a crash, a moment later. Lauren sighed resignedly.

"Make yerselves at home. I gotta go help th' bonehead I married," she headed into the other room.

"This explains a lot," Reuben commented as soon as the woman was gone.

"They certainly are...anomalous," the Elf maiden agreed.

"That they are," Cerys nodded, sitting down at the dining table and gesturing for them to do the same.

"Far different than _my_ parents, that's for sure," Bryston expressed. "Mine are much more...reserved,"

"Sound borin'," Cerys concluded.

"N-No...they're far from it," the Cleric protested. Reuben turned away from this conversation. He had no interest in this topic, as he had little to say of it. "They're kind and giving and dispense invaluable advice,"

"As do my parents," Alyndra interjected. "They are clothiers in my hometown of Nythfnore and taught me the craft for fifty-five years. It was little wonder that they were displeased when I elected to, instead, become a student at the Magevault Magickal Academy, rather than follow in their footsteps,"

"Hardly surprisin'," Reuben noted. "They spent a good long time teachin' ya th' ropes in a profession 'n ya jus' bailed on 'em,"

"Yes, well..." Alyndra trailed off, reluctant to explain her motivations, for once.

"Meat's on th' menu!" Davon announced, returning with a huge chunk of roasted venison. Lauren came in after him, bearing drinks in wooden cups. They placed these on the table, quickly distributing wooden plates and cups. Lauren skillfully sliced off thin pieces of meat, placing them on the plates.

"Good, ain't she? Never met a gal better wit' knives," Davon commented, grinning.

"Davon, get th' pickles," she reminded him, not pausing in her work.

"Right. Kinda get wrapped up in talkin' sometimes," he hurried off, coming back with a ceramic jar in moments. He passed out pickled vegetables of various sorts. Finally, the two sat down to eat, as well. Davon gestured invitingly to the food, clearly wanting them to try it. Lauren and Reuben rolled their eyes at this. Cerys took some food first, trying to placate her father.

"Good as always, dad," she complimented. Reuben grudgingly nodded in agreement as he swallowed a bite.

"This is quite flavorful," Bryston adjoined.

"And it is quite similar to the flavors of meat prepared in Tweplund," Alyndra commented. "What flavorings do you utilize?"

"Well, Zryki, Lindsen, and Phyrik, fer three," he listed, happy to find someone interested in his craft.

"Those are the very ones that we employ!" she exclaimed.

"Here we go ag'in," Reuben shook his head and dedicated his attention to his food. Lauren appeared to become bored after ten minutes, as well.

"So, Cerys, how did ya end up wit' these guys?" she inquired, starting a separate conversation in the background of the borderline monologue.

"We joined up fer a job 'n we jus' kept takin' th' same stuff. Kinda became a fellaship," the Huntress scratched her head. "'Course Reuben'd object,"

"Fellaship is a blanket term," he clarified, taking a drink. "They jus' won' let me alone. Kinda annoyin', really,"

"I know how that is," Lauren nodded towards her husband. "Ya wanna ditch 'em, but cain't,"

"Do you not like him, Madam?" Bryston looked concerned. She sighed.

"Tough question. I love 'im, if that's what ya mean,"

"No such thing here," Reuben muttered into his cup of cider.

"Aw, c'mon, Reuby. Ya know ya love me," Cerys joked, nudging him. He slapped her hand away and took another bite of meat.

"Hey!" Davon shouted suddenly. "We should have a huntin' contest! Been a while since th' last!"

"Davon, last time, ya near got us mauled ta death," Lauren disagreed.

"Aw, c'mon, honey. Ya know ya wanna show th' kids up!" he pouted.

"I don' see a problem," Cerys sided with her father. "Jus' don' do that ag'in, an' I'll do it,"

"Yay!" he jumped up in excitement, making his wife hide her face behind a hand. Reuben felt the need to do so as well, but didn't. The other two were mildly amused and mystified, respectively. "'Kay, I'll jus' make up some teams 'n-"

"Afore we get ahead o' ourselves, let's get some proper stuff ta wear," Lauren interrupted, unconcerned. "Might need ta get a spare bow 'r two, too," He nodded enthusiastically and hurried off outside. The party, finished with the meal, rose from the table. "Wait here," she headed upstairs and the sound of rummaging could be heard for a bit before she came back down with fur-lined cloaks like the ones the quartet had already seen. "These oughtta help 'gainst th' cold. Jus' put 'em on over yer ol' ones," The cloaks were, indeed, very warm, and seemed to seal in heat, especially when wrapped around the body. "These'll also help," she handed over four fur hats, one for each one of them. They were sized perfectly to be worn either on the head or over a metal cap. Davon came rushing back in, about this time, clutching two leather quivers of arrows and two longbows.

"We made these up th' other day," he explained, shoving one set at Reuben and one at Bryston. "Should work jus' fine," Reuben frowned.

"Not really used ta bows, but guess I'll make do, if it means showin' some'un up," he muttered, attaching the quiver to his baldric.

"I d-don't really know how to use a bow," Bryston stammered. Alyndra took the set from him and hung the quiver over her torso with the attached baldric.

"Do not worry, Sir Cleric. I am proficient with archery. I studied it when I was a girl," she said comfortingly.

"When din'saurs walked th' world," Reuben whispered to Cerys, causing her to giggle. Alyndra cast a glare at them, having heard.

"I been thinkin' o' th' teams," Davon announced, having not heard the whisper. "Me 'n Lauren, obviously, Cerys 'n Bryston, an' Reuben 'n Alyndra. That oughta do it!"

"I think we should reconsider," the Fighter shook his head. "Some'un might end up dead,"

"Meaning?" Alyndra challenged.

"Yeah, me an' Bryston 'r our healers," Cerys threw in, trying to pass the possible threat off as a genuine concern. "Might not work out well if them two get mauled,"

"Oh, right. Here!" He tossed a cloth bag at Alyndra. It clinked as she caught it. "Got a few extra Cure Moderate Wound Potions. Ya cen use 'em,"

"That seems ta put everyth' in order," Reuben said through gritted teeth.

"C'mon, cloth-boy! We're gonna get a head start!" Cerys grabbed Bryston by the arm and dragged him out.

"Yeah! Let's go, Lauren!" Davon tried to do the same with her, but she stopped him with a glare and walked out under her own power. He hurried after her. Reuben made sure the bow was firmly fixed on his person and walked out quietly, leaving the Elf to follow.

The path wound away from the southeast gate of the village, descending into a wooded valley.

"Stagdrift Woods! Nicest huntin' ground in Dreneron, I'd wager," Davon announced.

"Shut up afore ya scare away th' game!" Lauren reprimanded, smacking the back of his hooded head.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his head, as the group descended into the valley together. When the trees closed around them, though, they split off and went three directions.

Reuben and Alyndra ended up heading southwest, going into a rounded scoop out of the surrounding mountains, full of trees. Alyndra treaded softly, bow at the ready, while Reuben walked loudly enough to scare away birds, despite trying to be quiet. The Elf occasionally crouched to look for tracks in the snow. Though she found some, it didn't change the fact that the prey would likely hear them coming from a fair distance away. Reuben glanced around, bow also in hand, frowning at the lack of game.

* * *

"Wonder if one o' 'em's dead yet?" Cerys muttered, checking the ground for tracks, in the central part of the wood, heading south.

"I h-hope not," Bryston said worriedly.

"Well, we'll find out later. Think there's a few stags 'round, though," she peered ahead into the trees. "After me, an' be quiet," she stepped softly through the snow, wincing whenever the Cleric tripped on a root or bumped into a tree or branch. They crossed the trail, following the tracks ever southward. Cerys rolled her eyes as Bryston stepped on another stick and tripped on a root. 'We'll be lucky ta see anythin' wit' his racket.' She held out her hand for him to stop and crept forward, touching the ground and sniffing her fingers. 'Been here not too long ago.' she thought, bow in hand. She peered through a fairly large bush, spotting a slightly less wooded area where multiple deer were hanging out. Two stags were fighting. She fitted an arrow to her bow. 'Maybe I cen get both o' 'em, though they're not too big, fer this area, anyway.' They suddenly stopped fighting and Cerys paused, wondering if Bryston had made some sound. She quickly realized that this wasn't the case, withal, as a very large stag, at least five to six times that of normal deer, came charging into the clearing and sent the other two stags flying. Cerys fitted two arrows to her bow and prepared to use her Manyshot skill. The bow twanged as Bryston came stumbling up behind her, attracted by the sounds of the two stags' beating. The giant stag raged as the two arrows hit in his flank. He wheeled and began charging at them. Cerys grabbed the Cleric and jumped out of the way, barely avoiding the stag as it bent a small tree in half. The Huntress unleashed two more arrows, aiming for the eyes. The stag avoided them, however, and attempted to gore them with his horns.

"Searing Light!" Bryston's voice echoed as he fired a beam of white light at the beast. The stag balked and sustained a burn on the front left leg, giving Cerys a chance to fire more arrows at its neck and run, scaling a tree. The stag was more enraged by this injury, charging at Bryston as he tried to find cover. He ducked behind a tree, barely managing to jump out of the way as the tree was borne over by the stag's impact. The beast shook his head, stunned, and the Huntress put two more arrows in the back of his head. It reared and sprinted off into the woods, mortally wounded. Cerys jumped from her tree, wincing from the impact, and gave chase.

"C'mon, cloth-boy!" she called, not pausing. He hurried after her as best he could, still tripping occasionally.

"I'm unaccustomed to these woods! Wait up!" he called.

* * *

"This's bloody hopeless," Reuben grumbled after a good while of watching the Elf try to track things. "They both got damned expert trackers in their fuckin' groups 'n we don't,"

"Well, were you not creating such dissonant din, I might possibly be notably more effective at tracking!" the Elf snapped, no happier than he, straightening up to look at him angrily.

"Ya ever tried walkin' in any damn heavy armor, doxy? It's not Angelickdamn easy ta be fuckin' quiet!" he snapped.

"Not that you were ever soundless before!" she retorted. "I recall, still, the bedlam you produced when we were hunting the Orc marauders!"

"No one'd find yer fuckin' body if I off ya out here, Elf!" he threatened, brandishing his bow. They were interrupted by a loud growl.

"Shit," they both commented, turning to see a giant brown bear towering over them, growling threateningly.

"Jus' our luck we came inta this bastard's territory," Reuben muttered, readying an arrow. He didn't want to push his luck and engage it in melee, like before. An arrow and a fireball pelted at the beast, puncturing and burning her underside. Angry, the bear came at them, biting and slashing. Reuben blocked with his shield, but was knocked aside with three scratches that ran over the chest of his armor and across his face. Two magic missiles hit the beast in the face, drawing her attention to the Elf, which she charged at. Alyndra summoned a Wall of Fire to halt the bear, to limited success. The bear was unable to stop her charge and crashed through the wall of fire, burnt, ablaze, and furious. Alyndra tried to duck behind a tree, but was slashed across the torso, sprawling into the snow from the force of the blow. An arrow struck the bear in the back of the head as the fire wall faded out, reminding her of her other foe.

"If anyone's killin' that bitch, it'd be me," he declared, switching the bow for his sword. The bear rushed him and he squinted, analyzing the situation, for once. As the large jaw came towards him, he smashed his shield into the muzzle, both blocking and repelling the attack. His blade flashed, dealing a punishing blow as the muzzle was shunted aside. He jumped back from the low counter swipe, cutting the paw from the bear's leg. The brute roared as the snow was stained with her warm blood and was downed by a second strike that split her skull as she tried to rear again. The bear groaned and collapsed. The Fighter spat on it and hurried over to the crimson-soaked ice particles that were underneath the downed Elf.

"Fuckin' shit, Elf. Ya jus' cain't seem ta take care o' yerself," he grumbled, fumbling around in his pack for one of the Cure Moderate Wound Potions. He picked up her head, noting how cold she felt and the look of agony on her lovely face, and forced the potion in her mouth. The wounds closed, for the most part, as it oozed down her throat and her pained breathing grew easier. She slowly opened her eyes and saw him crossly looking at her face, trying to avoid looking at what he could likely see if he looked down.

"Reuben...I thought that you despise me," she muttered, still a bit dizzy from blood loss. He scoffed.

"'Course I do, but that don' mean th't some bear's gonna get th' pleasure of killin' ya. That's m' job," he frowned, tempted to drop her. She suddenly hugged him, pressing her bare front against him. He blushed, for once, not used to the contact, especially so suddenly. Her damaged clothes didn't help.

"My thanks, brave hero. I will requite your deed, someday. I swear it," she declared. Her lack of covering quickly caught up to her, though, as the cold metal of his armor touched warm, sensitive flesh. She shrieked and jumped back, covering herself with her cloak.

"Yeah, was wonderin' when ya'd notice," Reuben continued to avert his eyes.

"I suspect not! You were trusting that I would not so that you could persist in eyeing my chest!" the Fighter snorted.

"Dream on, doxy. I don' need ta be one o' th' hundreds o' notches on yer belt," he rolled his eyes.

"I have never-" she stopped. "I am not a harlot!"

"Yeah, whatever, virgin girl," he taunted, downing a potion, himself and chucking the bottle away. "Let's just find th' Cleric so he cen get all red an' fix yer sissy robe,"

"At least I am dedicated to not being a whore!" she retorted, turning away and tying the front of her robes together. Her stomach was still exposed, but it would do, for the moment, if she kept her cloak over it.

"Oh, an' I'm not?" Reuben cocked an eyebrow. "Not all guys're inta fuckin' ev'ry bitch they see, ya know. I got better things ta do," He went back over to the dead bear. "Now shut up an' let me carry this bitch," He hefted the large bulk onto his back. "Shit, she's heavy," He began the arduous process of dragging the beast back to town, already puffing from the effort. Alyndra sighed and tried to enjoy the serenity of the forest while still keeping a reasonable lookout for dangers. She wasn't comfortable with being defeated in the last two battles that they had been in, however. She resolved to train harder.

* * *

The trail of destruction left by the stag as he fled south needed no skill to follow. The sound of rushing water soon met their ears as they went.

"Hope th' bastard di'n't fall in th' water. We'll never get 'im if 'e did," Cerys commented as they came to a sudden edge. The stag had finally collapsed, a short way from falling into the ravine and the river within. Cerys kicked the corpse to make sure he was dead. There was no movement.

"I can't say I abide this hunting business," Bryston said, catching his breath. "It's hard work, true, but I was raised to cherish and aid life, not end it and sell off the parts,"

"Ta each their own, kid," Cerys patted his shoulder. "If I was raised in Mistwatch, I might be sayin' th' same thing. Problem is, th' world's built on sacrifices of other bein's fuelin' progress. Human, animal, whatever, food 'n clothes don' jus' fall outta th' sky from th' Lord Angelick," She hefted the heavy animal. "Now let's get back wit' this. I wanna see Reuben when 'e loses,"

"I don't think that I'll ever understand why you two delight in baiting each other," the Cleric sighed.

"Don't think ya need ta. Yer kind heart makes ya who ya are," Cerys grunted, dragging the large animal. "Now watch out fer anymore hostile stuff. Kinda hard ta defend m'self when I'm luggin' his sorry ass,"

* * *

It was two hours after the noon when the three groups reconvened at the Hunters' house.

"Wow! Yer good!" Davon exclaimed, seeing the large catches that they'd made. "I only got three smaller 'uns,"

"I learned from th' masters," Cerys said proudly.

"I'm jus' that good," Reuben shrugged, nonchalant. Bryston and Alyndra stood by, deciding not to interrupt to point out their presence in the battles.

"Sir Cleric, my apparel and flesh are in need of repairs," she informed him on the sidelines. He blushed as he saw her bare stomach and part of the partially healed cuts, but summoned up his powers and mended the fabric and wounds in a trice.

"Guess we better get on skinnin' an' cleanin' these," Lauren suggested. "Care ta join us?"

"I will," Cerys volunteered.

"I need ta get m' armor fixed," Reuben declined, going over to Bryston, despite the fact that his armor had taken only a few scratches.

"I am most interested in the making of fur clothing," Alyndra assented.

"Well, I cen certainly teach ya," Lauren offered.

"I-I'm fixing his armor," Bryston excused himself, despite the fact that the repairs had just been finished during the previous sentences.

"More like ya cain't handle butcherin' animals," Reuben rolled his eyes.

"Well, there's a flagon o' cider inside 'n some dried venison," Davon announced. "Help yerselves!" The two entered the house while the others made off for the larger shed.

It was two hours before the others returned to the house, rubbing their arms and making their way over to partake in cider. Reuben jerked awake from where he had dozed off at the table and Bryston closed the tome that he had been perusing.

"Got a nice bit o' meat," Davon announced as the group sat down to another meal. "Thank ya. It'll fetch a pretty good price," he pushed a bag of gold towards Cerys. "Here's yer cut. An' y'all cen keep th' bows,"

"Thanks, dad," the Huntress split the gold and distributed it. "Glad we could help out,"

"An' _I'm_ glad I got some gold outta this," Reuben added, pocketing his share.

"So where are you going, next?" Lauren inquired. "I'll not hide that I'd be happy ta have ya fer a bit longer,"

"We'll likely return ta Honeyhorn," Cerys explained. "From there, depends on where work takes us,"

"Well, at least spend th' night!" Davon insisted. "We got some nice fur blankets ta kip under an' a couple guest rooms,"

"My thanks," Alyndra stated. "You have much hospitality,"

"May Lord Angelick bless you," Bryston adjoined. The party went up to put their things in their temporary rooms. Cerys went back to her old room, still filled with a few odds and ends from her youth. She picked up an old doll and looked at her ratty hair, smoothing it a bit before putting her back on the shelf.

"So which o' those guys're ya lookin' at?" Lauren teased from the door. "My guess's on th' buff 'un,"

"Mom, I ain't lookin' ta bang neither o' them," she rolled her eyes. "Cloth-boy'd prob'ly faint at th' idea, anyway. An' Reuben...not goin' there,"

"Yer twenty-nine. Ain't it time ya thought o' settlin' down a bit?" the older woman sighed, idly toying with an old carving that sat on the dresser by the door.

"I like travellin'. If I _do_ get wit' some'un, he'll have ta understand that an' prob'ly tag along," the Huntress said seriously. Lauren shrugged.

"Well, whatever. But I'd like ta have some grand-kids afore Davon gets me mauled ta death," she chuckled humorlessly. "Well, I gotta go do some stuff," She excused herself. Cerys shook her head. 'Sheesh. Always tryin' ta get me married. I'm sure I'll find a bloke someday, but I ain't thinkin' it's soon.'

* * *

Many hours of daylight were ahead of them, so, naturally, Alyndra soon found herself practicing her spells in the back yard. She built a Wall of Ice and proceeded to attack it with Ice Storm and Shout. Naturally, the loud screaming attracted Bryston and the others. They were relieved that there was no threat, and even began practicing their own skills. Reuben and Cerys began firing arrows at a snowman that they hastily built. Bryston fired Scorching Light spells at the wall, adding to the damage it was taking and forcing the Elf maiden to recast it. This gave way, after a while, as they tired a bit, and they sat on a snowy wooden bench and watched Cerys and Reuben engage in combat with their knives and sword. Despite being a bow specialist, the Huntress was no slouch in melee combat, managing to parry Reuben's strikes and attempt to cut him back. His longer weapon gave him an advantage, though, and he had a shield, so she had trouble landing a hit. He wasn't as maneuverable, though, improving as he was with dealing with heavier armor and this made it just as difficult to land a hit on Cerys.

"Swordplay is quite intriguing," Alyndra commented to Bryston. "Mayhap I should indulge in some, myself, as I have only had basic instruction in the rapier,"

"I'd rather not be sliced open, if it can be prevented," the Cleric disagreed.

"My uncle educated me a bit in blades," she explained, becoming pensive, if only for a moment. "Though I would benefit from proper instruction," She watched the fight a bit longer. "Reuben has quite the irregular technique, withal. There is no explicit pattern and his strikes are made to end the battle posthaste, I have observed,"

"I doubt that he would be willing to instruct anyone," Bryston affirmed. Cerys was finally nicked across the chain shirt and jumped back.

"Touche," Reuben smirked. "One-oh to me,"

"Best two outta three," Cerys went back to the offensive and the dance began again.

"They have so much energy," the Cleric remarked. "I wish that I were so vigorous,"

"Such vitality comes with much discipline," the Elf maiden replied. "So said my uncle," She paused again.

"Alyndra. Did something happen to your uncle, if you don't mind my asking?" the Cleric asked carefully. The Elf frowned and folded her hands.

"He disappeared, sixty-seven years ago, on a voyage to Watran," she said sadly. "I carry the hope that he breathes still, but who can maintain such a claim with such an inadequacy of evidence to the contrary?"

"If he was a good man, I see no reason that the Lord Angelick would take him early," Bryston said comfortingly. "I hold that your belief will come true someday,"

"My gratitude," the Elf wiped a tear from her face. "Whether they are hollow words or no,"

"OW!" Reuben dropped his sword and sucked on his hand. "Th' fuck, Cerys!"

"That's one-one fer both o' us," she smirked. "Suck it up, tough guy," The Fighter retrieved his weapon.

"Yer gonna eat them words!" so they began again. Davon came over to sit next to Alyndra and Bryston, smiling happily.

"They sure got a lotta energy. Gotta wonder if they gonna get married, soon," he chuckled.

"I-I don't think so, sir," Bryston reacted. "Reuben has made it quite clear that he desires neither of the women that he's travelling with,"

"Quite a shame. This Reuben guy's as rough 'n tough as Cerys. Make a good match," he rubbed his beard.

"Appearances can deceive," Alyndra interjected. "Just because one perceives a match as positive, does not guarantee that as a given,"

"Ya sure use big words," Davon scratched his head. "Mus' be fun travellin' wit' a couple people that use small 'uns,"

"It is different, surely," the Elf maiden agreed. "Yet the exposure to different people, in and of itself, is not a ruinous event,"

"OW!"

"AH!" two shouts interrupted them and they looked to see both warriors sporting wounds on their face and sitting on the ground. Bryston jumped up and hurried over to heal them.

"'Kay, Cerys. We'll call it a draw," Reuben said sardonically, cleaning and sheathing his blade as the Cleric ran healing hands over the slice that ran from his chin to below his temple. Cerys rubbed where hers had been, across the left cheek, barely missing her nose.

"Yeah, guess we shoul'n't practice wit' real blades," the Huntress agreed, cleaning and putting away her dagger. "How 'bout a drink?"

"Sure, why not?" he refused her hand and got up under his own power. "Let's go," he headed past the house, directing his path towards the pub.

"Thanks, cloth-boy. See ya two later!" Cerys waved and jogged to catch up with the Fighter. Bryston came back to the bench.

"Touring the borough does not seem an ill proposition," Alyndra agreed with the others' idea and rose from her seat. "Care to join me, Sir Cleric?"

"I would be honored, Alyndra," he smiled and set off with her. Davon looked mildly put out.

"What 'bout me!" he pouted.

"Ya cen shovel th' walk!" Lauren appeared with a snow shovel.

"D'oh!" the man protested.

* * *

"Sure is nice ta be back home," Cerys commented and she and Reuben walked down the main path through the village.

"I s'pose..." the Fighter murmured distantly. This place wasn't all that removed from his own hometown, oddly enough. This thought didn't cheer him. Cerys cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, no. Here comes moody Reuby again," she teased, nudging him with an elbow. "What's up? Did ya remember th' time ya saved m' ass?" He gave a look that clearly looked unimpressed.

"Hmm...yeah. I'm startin' ta wonder if I should've. Always askin' questions," he shrugged and shook his head. "Some people got stuff they ain't keen ta talk 'bout. Why're ya wantin' ta know?"

"Ya know I care 'bout ya, 'r I wouldn' bother," the Huntress said, serious for once. Reuben looked away, walking ahead a bit and towards the pub.

"Oh, thank Angelick," he grumbled quietly.

'Walkin' mystery, that 'un.' Cerys shook her head and followed him.

"Ah! Yer back an' wit' a guy!" Ben joked as she came to the counter to order drinks.

"Can it, Ben. I got enough from m' parents," she sighed. "Gimme a flagon o' the Stagdrift brew," Ben frowned, filling a flagon.

"What's up, Cerys? Ya seem down," he asked as he fetched a tray.

"Long day," she lied. Ben still looked dubious, but put the flagon and two tankards on a wooden tray for her.

"Ninety gold," he asked in a consolatory tone. She handed over the money and went to the table by the fireplace, where Reuben was sitting. She poured two mugs and shoved one at him.

"Cheers," she gave a weak smile. Reuben eyed her and took the mug and they drank.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"Sorry fer pryin'," she muttered.

"Not a problem," he answered, draining his mug and pouring himself another.

* * *

Alyndra vastly enjoyed walking around the town and observing everything from the different house designs, to the clothing of the locals, to the snowpeople that the children were crafting.

"It is a shame that Cerys did not provide us a tour, as she claimed," the Elf noted.

"Well, you know how she and Reuben get when alcoholic beverages are involved," Bryston jested with a smile.

"Indeed, I do," the Elf agreed jovially. "Many Elves also enjoy partaking in such beverages, though not so much of the Human brews,"

"Wine is the staple in Mistwatch," Bryston explained. "Of course, it's mainly used for ceremonial purposes, but we have a goblet with dinner, on occasion,"

"I do enjoy a good bouquet and sweetness with tang," Alyndra nodded. "Glarvinoron is a wine beloved of Elves, though it is scarce and expensive and must be crafted by specific methods and aged for one hundred years to arrive at full maturity,"

"A tithe of time to your kind, I am sure, but a great cost to mine," the Cleric replied, a little sad.

"What is amiss, Sir Cleric?" she inquired, seeing his face.

"I will die before you, I realize. You'll be sad and I'll be at fault," he frowned. Alyndra put a hand on his shoulder.

"The dead are not at fault for the griefs of the living, not in that way," she disagreed. "True, mourning will occur with the departure of a dear friend, but they live on in your memory and heart,"

"That's a nice thought," the Cleric tried to smile.

"Yes, it is," she nodded. "Now, come! We must ascend to look upon the forest from this elevated locale!" She guided him to a raised deck that overlooked the wall. Stagdrift Woods stood, pale green and covered with sparkling snow, below them. Alyndra smiled from the beauty of it all, her eyes sparkling. Bryston couldn't help but be affected by the contagious joy and grinned too. They sat down and enjoyed the sight for a bit, eventually nodding off as they leaned together for warmth.

* * *

Reuben refilled his mug for the tenth time, feeling the flagon empty.

"Dammit..." he slurred, looking in it and setting it down harder than necessary. "'s empty..."

"Fuck, that's th' secon' 'un, R'by," Cerys muttered, quite drunk, too. "Stuff's n't che'p," He took a deep swig.

"Ah, we gettin' paid 'nuff," he justified. The Huntress gave a murmur of agreement, taking another drink.

"Why're w' th's dr'nk, 'gain?" she grumbled.

"Cain't 'member," Reuben responded. "Don' c're,"

"I hate ta tell ya, but I think ya should go," Ben interjected, looking worried. "It's 'bout sunset,"

"Meeeeehhhhhhh..." was Reuben's sophisticated answer as he got up shakily, seeing almost triple. Cerys staggered upwards and gripped the table for balance. They took a few unsteady steps towards the door before bracing on each other's shoulders and managing to walk back out. They began singing a raucous and, frankly, rude song as they headed back towards Cerys's parents' house. Many of the townsfolk gave them heavily disapproving looks and pulled their kids inside, covering their ears. They practically barged into the house when they got back, much to Lauren's surprise and annoyance.

"Not again!" she tutted. "Cerys, I told ya not ta get blasted like this,"

"Oh, s'rry, ma," she muttered to the air a few inches to Lauren's left, where one of the three images of her was. "Why's th're three o' yer?" The woman rolled her eyes.

"Davon! Help me out!" the Hunter came trotting out of the kitchen and grabbed Reuben, unlatching him from Cerys and taking him upstairs. The Fighter was surprisingly compliant.

"I totally get it!" he nodded reminiscently. "Me 'n th' missus used ta go drinkin' too," He shoved Reuben into his room, once they had gotten there. The Fighter collapsed on the bed with a garbled statement and passed out. Davon turned to see Lauren doing the same for Cerys. "Kids'll be kids," he shrugged. Lauren sighed, shutting the door.

"I jus' wish they were more r'sponsible th'n we were," she put a hand to her forehead.

* * *

Bryston and Alyndra jerked awake at the sound of a loud and vulgar song on the streets below. The Cleric blushed and quickly moved away from the Elf once he realized where he was. Alyndra looked down at the street, standing, and saw two figures that were very familiar.

"If I am not mistaken, our companions have over-imbibed of their liquors," she observed, drawing her cloaks around her chilled limbs.

"And we have slept away the day," Bryston observed, looking at the orange sky. Alyndra turned and looked as the sun set beautifully behind the mountains to the west.

"Indeed. We have the consolation of seeing this sublime sight, however," she answered. Bryston had to agree, it was beautiful. They watched it for a bit before feeling the chill again.

"Shall we retire to the Hunters' house for some cider?" he suggested, pulling his cloaks around him tighter.

"I suppose," the Elf agreed. They headed back down, walking for a bit, and came back to the house as the two owners came down from seeing their friends to bed.

"I hope ya two 'r sober," Lauren complained.

"Of course, ma'am. I don't really drink," Bryston elucidated. "We would be grateful for some warm cider, though,"

"Comin' up!" Davon hurried to prepare the drinks.

"This has been a fulfilling day," Alyndra hid a yawn behind her hand as she and the Cleric went to retire after supper.

"That it has," he agreed. "May the Lord Angelick grant us a peaceful and restful slumber,"

"Amen," the Elf agreed. "I bid thee a good night,"

* * *

 **Character development and all that stuff. Great. We're getting towards the main plot more, now. If constant revision doesn't slow the writing of new stuff, anyway :( . Anyway, review if you liked it or if I made some huge error or if something just doesn't add up or whatever.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay! More violence than usual! Or is that bad? Depends on what your standards are, I suppose. Anyway, usual warnings, usual disclaimers.**

* * *

"It was yer fuckin' idea, bitch!" Reuben's voice cut through the house from upstairs as Bryston, Alyndra, Davon, and Lauren finished their breakfast of smoked venison, smoked bacon, pickled vegetables, dried fruit, and cider. They paused in their idle chatting and looked towards the stairs.

"I ain't th' Angelickdamn 'un th't was sayin' 'Fetch another 'un, Cerys!' It's yer shittin' hobby ta get motherfuckin' wasted all the damn time!" Cerys retorted.

"Never have I heard such hateful language before journeying with those two," Bryston commented, looking anxious.

"Power o' th' hangover," Lauren sighed as Davon went to fetch some herbs and water.

"Ya fuckin' shelled out th' Angelickdamn money, doxy!" the Fighter barked back.

"That fuckin' means ya damn owe me, motherfuckin' rake!" the Huntress answered angrily. A thud could be heard as she shoved him into a wall.

"Break it up!" Lauren barked, an arrow notched in a bow and ready to fire. This caused the two to grudgingly cease fire and descend the stairs cantankerously.

"Here! This'll help!" Davon said jovially. Reuben and Cerys flinched at the loudness of his voice, but grabbed the proffered cups of water and bundles of herbs. Swallowing them quickly, they headed over, following their noses, and dug into what was left of breakfast. The two shot daggers at each other as they ate more aggressively than necessary, but seemed to think better of continuing their fight. "R'member this from our courtin' days?" Davon directed at Lauren. She rolled her eyes.

"Vividly...well, some o' it," she replied flatly. "Ya still got th' scars,"

"Too true..." Davon scratched his head.

"The clime of this day will be feasibly superior to that of the day of our arrival," Alyndra informed the two new arrivals.

"I'm keepin' my fuckin' cloak nearby, r'gardless," Reuben muttered, mouth full of venison.

"Better safe than sorry, I always say," Bryston added lightly, attempting to ease the tension. "They _are_ nice cloaks, though,"

"I am in agreement. These garments are of sublime quality, comparable to the clothiers of Nythfnore," Alyndra agreed. "The makes are not too dissimilar, though using hide and flora based fabrics are antithetical, at least in the sense of hide being from animal, rather than plant, though they are both natural materials,"

"Angelickdamn it, Elf! Shut the bloody fuckin' hell up!" Reuben growled, eyes ablaze. "I feel like I got fuckin' tent pegs in m' Anglickdamn head an' I don' need ya jabberin' the fuck on!" Alyndra glared and crossed her arms, but decided that she would be merciful on him. He would likely be less of a threat while hungover, if it came to a fight, but she'd rather not damage the Hunters' home.

"Well, at least some 'un likes m' furs," Lauren mumbled.

"I am sure that they are appreciated all around, but I have found that this is not a mood that they are very amiable in," Bryston whispered apologetically.

"I know," the older woman smiled ruefully. The rest of the meal was quiet enough, though Reuben shuffled uncomfortably, having slept in his armor again, and being understandably sore and stiff from it. Finally, they were ready to go, once they had packed up their belongings and put all of their gear back on their persons. The herbs had kicked in a bit, by this point, dulling the pain to the point where there was less pain-induced anger and more of the regular morning grogginess anger, at least from Reuben.

"Thanks fer puttin' up wit' us," Cerys hugged her dad and then her mom, though her temples still throbbed.

"No prob, Cerys!" Davon responded happily. "Jus' don' get so hammered, next visit!"

"I'll try," she smiled weakly.

"Try ta find a husband while yer out there," Lauren teased, or as close to teasing as the woman got.

"We'll see," the Huntress joked back.

"May the Lord Angelick bless you," Bryston added, in traditional Cleric fashion.

"My sincerest gratitude for your hospitality," Alyndra adjoined.

"Yeah, what they said," Reuben rolled his eyes at the excessive pleasantries and headed for the door.

* * *

"Take good care o' m' bows!" Davon called after them as they set off across the brightly lit village. The sun was already a decent way up in the sky, it being two hours until the noon.

"I certainly shall!" Alyndra called back. The quartet turned their back on the homely residence and headed down the main thoroughfare, heading back to the western gates.

"Your parents are kind and nurturing, if a bit rough around the edges," Bryston commented to Cerys as they went.

"Yeah, mos' folks out in th' border towns are," the Huntress replied, squinting against the sun, even with her hood up. "'Course, there's always th' odd 'ceptions, here 'n there..."

"Bye, Cerys! Good luck out there!" Ben waved from the tavern entrance.

"Thanks! Fortune be wit' ya, too!" she waved back. The party continued until they came to the stables.

"Back again, eh?" the stable worker inquired. "I assume yer goin' back ta Honeyhorn?"

"Yep," Cerys nodded.

"'Kay. Round trip discount, then. Two hundred 'n eighty-five gold," he said, scribbling down an entry in his log.

"C'mon, guys, cough up," she turned to the others. "I ain't got enough ta pay _ever'un's_ ways," Gold was pooled, though Reuben was unhappy about it. The thought of walking for more than a day through the cold mountains persuaded him, though. The worker made another note in his log and pointed them to the same horses from before.

"Thanks fer usin' our services," he sat back down on a crate and pulled a fur cloak around himself. Alyndra petted her horse, muttering to her in Elvish, before mounting. The party directed the horses towards the gate, stopping when Jordan hailed them.

"Leavin' so soon, Cerys?" he looked crestfallen.

"Yeah. Sorry, Jordan. Got places ta go 'n stuff ta do," she answered with a consolatory smile.

"Make sure ya come back. I don' wanna hear 'bout nothin' bad happenin' ta ya," he said seriously. Cerys scratched the back of her hood.

"Sheesh, ya sound like I'm yer fiance 'r somethin'..." she muttered. "Fine, I'll look after m'self, 'r these guys will. Don' look like much, but they're somethin' else," They continued on, leaving the saddened guard behind to be teased by his mate, and they began the slow and winding climb back out of the Stag Mountains.

"That gentleman seems to possess an interest in you," Alyndra observed as they went.

"Ah, he's been crushin' on me since I left, even b'fore," the Huntress shrugged. "Maybe I'll take 'im up on it someday, if I'm bored wit' travellin'," Isobel flapped up at that moment, cawing a greeting, before swooping off again to hunt. Cerys cawed a greeting back.

"I am pleased to observe that she is still hale," the Elf watched the eagle fly away.

"Cerys, why did you not tell your parents of Jordan, if you-" Bryston started.

"Mom's already up in m' love life, as it is!" she complained. "Ain't wantin' ta add more fuel ta th' fire!"

"It must be distressing to be forced to tolerate such discussions," Alyndra tried to sympathize. "I will not be due for such pressures for some one hundred ninety-one years, hence,"

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used ta yer livin' longer 'n me," Cerys shook her head.

"Well, you'll only have ta try fer a few decades, then it won't bother ya no more," Reuben noted sarcastically.

* * *

The weather became overcast as they went on, though nothing worse than a light flurry resulted from it. Soon enough, the snow gave way to rain as they came back to the frosty lands and then the green. The road became more clear, though muddy, and they could already spot Honeyhorn in the distance, small though it looked from their current location. They halted for a hasty lunch as they came to the extended crossroads that led to Westhold, Honeyhorn, and, eventually, back down to Oakenrest, heads still bowed against the light drizzle that fell from the heavens. The fur cloaks, at least, seemed to be somewhat waterproof. This was likely to help with snow, but was also effective against rain. The group quickly remounted and proceeded on their way, having dined, and crossed the river, halting only briefly for a convoy of three wagons that were heading up to Stagdrift.

"How's th' weather?" one of the wagon drivers called.

"Not too bad," Cerys called back. "Jus' flurries,"

"Hope it don' get worse. Angelickspeed!" the carts continued on. The quartet did the same. Alyndra sang softly as they went, breathing deeply of the scent of wet grass and rain. It was rather nice to have an uneventful journey, for once. Honeyhorn slowly loomed into view before them and they finally came to the northwestern gate.

"Ah! You guys again!" the guard exclaimed. "Nieves, Hunter, Cross, Virnan, right? Go on in!" They passed the portcullis, going through the gatehouse, and halted briefly to return their horses to the stablemaster.

"Thanks fer usin' our services," he grunted, making a note in his log from the shelter of his little hut. The quartet wrapped their cloaks around themselves and made their way back down the familiar road, heading for The Foraging Bear.

It was reminiscent of their first visit as they came to the central plaza, abandoned, for the moment, due to the rain. They headed into the pub, thankfully lowering their hoods as they entered the warmth and dryness. Some patrons observed the quartet as they entered, but most were preoccupied with getting dry or chatting amongst themselves. A few dour looks were cast at Alyndra, but self-restraint won the day with these people.

"I'll get th' drinks 'n food," Cerys volunteered. "Y' cen find us a table in this ilk," Reuben easily scared away a couple of men that were taking up a table for four, making them scramble to the other side of the common room.

"That was rather unkind," Bryston scolded, though with his usual kind demeanor.

"They was takin' up a bigger table 'n they needed," the Fighter shrugged, seeming quite lacking of regret. Cerys came over, not a moment later, putting down a tray of tankards of hot cider.

"Got us some rooms an' th' food's comin'. Now gimme th' money," she held out a hand. She received more coins. The party tucked into the cider gratefully. Riding was tiring work.

"So ya ask 'bout jobs?" Reuben said, at length.

"Yeah, but there still ain't none ta be had round here," Cerys shrugged. "Guess we'll have ta go east,"

"'r south. Could always check Oakenrest again 'r Fallmond," he suggested, taking a swig.

"True enough," the Huntress admitted. "What d'ya guys think?" She directed at the other two.

"I wouldn't mind heading back to Mistwatch, if only for a little while," Bryston admitted. "Since our stay in Stagdrift, I'd like to see my parents again,"

"I believe that I would relish descrying the larger municipalities, having regarded the hamlets," Alyndra added. "Bryston has said much of Mistwatch and I cognate it a marvel worth espying,"

"Folk 'way east ain't too fond o' Elves, 'specially right now," Reuben grunted. "Might not keep yer pointy-eared head very long,"

"Th' guards _did_ mention summat o' that when w' first got 'ere," Cerys recalled. "Only cloth-boy's vouchin' got 'er in,"

"Perhaps the Grand Father may know more of this and be able to help," Bryston suggested. "He often visits Castlepass and speaks frequently with King Colten XVI, providing spiritual guidance in his troubles,"

"Sounds good ta me," Cerys agreed. "We'll have ta pass through Dewhold ta get there, though,"

"Hope there's work, 'cause I ain't interested, otherwise," the Mercenary reminded them.

"Are you interested only in capital? Have you no other ambition in your days?" Alyndra posed to him.

"Gold keeps m' clothed, fed, 'n watered. What else's there?" he shot back coolly.

"Art, literature, family, camaraderie..." she listed off easily.

"Borin', borin', not int'rested, 'n a means ta an end," he countered smoothly, going to fetch their food from the impatiently waiting barkeep and get himself more drinks. Alyndra scowled.

"What an infuriating, obtuse, boorish man!" she fumed.

"Quit now, while yer ahead," Cerys suggested. The Elf remained disconsolate as the Fighter returned with a flagon of ale and a tray laden with plates of food. "By th' way, if ya guys want horses t'morrow, I'll be needin' some gold," she commented, after a space of silence in which they ate.

"So greedy t'day, ain't ya?" Reuben grumbled, fiddling with his money pouch. "All this shit's gonna break me by th' end o' this," The other two pooled money in her hands, as well.

"I believe that I shall retire, now," Alyndra stood. "Though, beforehand, I may visit the bathhouse of this locale,"

"In th' back," Cerys answered without waiting for the question. The Elf nodded.

"My thanks," she set off gracefully through the back door of the room.

"I think that we could all use a bath, now that it comes to it," Bryston injected. "We haven't had one in a while," Rebuen took a deep swig and seemed to not hear.

"Yeah, y' smell somethin' awful, Reuby," Cerys jested. Reuben fixed her with a dubious stare.

"Yer one t' be talkin'. Could smell ya on th' other side o' Stagdrift Woods," he countered.

"Well, make sure ya take 'un, 'cause I'm headin' out ta the southeastern stables an' cain't watch ya ta make sure ya do it," she also left her seat, but headed out the front door. Reuben looked at Bryston, refilling his mug, and went back to drinking. The Cleric quickly went to find the bathhouse, as well.

"Yes, _mum_..." the Fighter rolled his eyes and took another drink.

Said bathhouse was a bit larger and less gloomy than the one in Oakenrest had been. This was to be expected in a larger city. The larger line was also to be expected. A few of the patrons seemed to not be happy about sharing the line with an Elf, much less one who immediately began to chatter once Bryston arrived. He sighed and steeled himself for a wait while listening politely to Alyndra's little spiel about bathhouses.

* * *

The next morning was rife with the usual. Reuben, after having miraculously not drowned in his bath, was hung over, as usual, and was not happy about it.

"Well, when yer done wit' breakfast, we'll be at th' southeastern gate," Cerys told him quickly after a large amount of vulgar words and insinuations that she was a whore.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get my fuckin' ass down there..." the Fighter growled, spearing a sausage with his fork with more venom than he would stab an Orc with. She left the pub and the staring patrons and went out into the square. She passed the merchants, having already filled her provisions back up in the pub.

'Hope we find some work wit' good pay, soon.' she thought as she dodged a crowd of townsfolk that were perusing the shops. 'Reuby's right 'bout this trip breakin' us.' Her coin pouch was much too light for comfort. She passed a multitude of houses, all alive with people at this time of day, as she neared the gatehouse. Alyndra, talking to her new horse in Elvish and scratching him behind the ears, and Bryston, looking nervous as he stood next to his horse and gripped the reins, awaited her.

"Might be a few," she warned as she got within talking distance. "Cranky boy's still eatin',"

"I have no qualms," Alyndra replied, stroking her horse's mane. Isobel swooped up and landed on Cerys's shoulder, cawing quietly in her ear. She nodded, cawing a reply back.

"Road's clear, 'cording ta Isobel, anyway," the Huntress reported. "Hopefully, it'll stay that way,"

"Good. I wouldn't want to get involved with whatever is going on in the east," Bryston said, relieved, as the bird flew off again.

"Well, from what I hear, it's some big group o' brigands. Elves, mostly. They're raidin' places like Clearvale 'n Lagoonfield fer supplies an' kicks," the Huntress responded.

"Why would Elves persist in such a farce?" Alyndra said angrily.

"Don' fuckin' act like yer damn race is so Angelickdamn innocent," Reuben growled as he came up. "Only fuckin' shit ya got over Humans is yer Angelickdamn lifespans,"

"You!" the Elf prepared a volley of Magic Missiles.

"Fuckin' stop, ya bastards!" Cerys barked, an arrow already notched. "M' last threat still stands!" Alyndra glared for a bit longer, but finally turned away and mounted her horse, petting him gently as she directed him towards the gate. Reuben put a hand to his head, glad, for once, that a fight had been avoided. He was in no condition, not that he'd ever admit to it. Cerys put her bow back away and went to her horse. Bryston, even more nervous from the outburst, clambered aboard. Reuben did so, as well, and their journey began. They rode four black horses today. Alyndra sniffed irritably as Bryston rode up beside her to check on her.

"Alyndra? What's wrong?" he inquired of her.

"I just find it difficult to believe that my people would commit horrors willingly, especially outside of warfare," she admitted proudly. "The fact that that-" she spat a word in Elvish. "-is so quick to suspect the worst of my people..."

"That's not what he said," the Cleric reasoned. "He just said that Elves and Humans are more similar than you'd think. Isn't that what you've been saying?" Alyndra looked thoughtful, her Elven pride giving way to reason.

"I suppose...perhaps I am merely overreacting," she shook her head. "Suffice it to say that I will assure that these brigands are annihilated,"

"Something tells me that it won't be so simple as that," Bryston sighed. "Perhaps it is my connection to the Lord Angelick, but I sense a deeper evil within this matter. Only the Grand Father may know for sure, though,"

"The Headmaster of the Magevault Magickal Academy could, conceivably, likewise be cognizant of such knowledge, but we are a considerable distance from that locale," Alyndra added thoughtfully. They looked right as Azure Lake came into view in its basin, shimmering blue in the sunlight that shone through the broken clouds. "At the very least, this day is most lovely," She threw her hood back and smiled as the sun warmed her face. It was warmer than it had been the past few days, but the party had stowed away their normal cloaks and kept the fur ones. They were more comfortable and waterproof, anyway.

"Don' know why ya gotta start stuff all th' time, Reuby," Cerys frowned at the Mercenary in the rear-guard of the party.

"Don' fuckin' expect ya to," he grumbled, fixing her with a bloodshot stare. "Ain't no shit I said that ain't the damn truth,"

"Delivery's everythin', ya know," the Huntress sighed, looking ahead at the other two as they talked. "Oh, look! The lake's so pretty t'day!" she pointed at it. Reuben looked at the lovely view sourly.

"Fuckin' riveting..." his tone was dripping with sarcasm. The party crossed a stone bridge that spanned one of the rivers that fed into the lake. Bryston looked down the shallow ravine nervously as they crossed. Isobel came by, overhead, cawing an all-clear and startling the Cleric. They rode on for a bit longer, going at an easy pace. An extended crossroads came up, soon enough, and they continued to head southeast. Another crossroads came, and they stopped at it for a quick lunch for themselves and the horses, whom they allowed to forage for grass nearby.

"One would unlikely cognate that this vicinity was undergoing any description of turmoil by examining it," Alyndra observed, looking over the bright and lovely landscape as it stretched into the distance, broken here and there by rivers. A belt of trees was barely visible to the south, where it crossed the road.

"Lot's o' places don' look troubled by war 'r strife, least till stuff starts burnin'," Reuben noted morosely, munching at a biscuit. "People screamin', blood in th' air, blades ringin' in th' streets, bodies ever'where. All pretty bad,"

"You speak as someone who has known these things, firsthand," the Elf replied. The Fighter shrugged.

"Kinda m' job, Elf," he said shortly, taking a swig of water. "Not ever'un's nice 'nuff ta not end ya when they win,"

"True," Cerys agreed. "I just hope we ain't involved more 'n we gotta be," The party remounted, soon after this, and continued on, going a bit faster now. Half of the journey was still left and half the day was left, too. If they didn't make it to town before sunset, they'd likely be sleeping outside, what with the current social and legal climate in the area. They'd be lucky to get Alyndra into the town. Another bridge came up, in time, and was crossed, and the party began to see a fortified city in the distance. The walls were set up as Honeyhorn's were and similar guard posts were likely positioned at the three gates into the city. They passed the thin belt of trees that the road cut through and made their way towards Dewhold. An hour later, they were stopped at the gates. Multiple men in cuirasses, painted with a water droplet emblem, pointed crossbows at them as four more held halberds.

"Halt! What is your business in these troubled times?" the captain, a man with a bit of gold lining on his armor, demanded.

"We are heading to Mistwatch and wish to stay the night here," Bryston piped up timidly, clearly not liking the number of weapons aimed at him.

"We have no qualms with you, Sir Cleric, and you are welcome, but that Elf scum with you is not!" he barked, pointing his falchion at Alyndra. She looked hurt and averted her gaze.

"But she is a valued companion of mine and has fought with valor to protect the people of Falo!" Bryston protested, emboldened on his friend's behalf. "She has no ties with any foul brigands and would sooner kill them than aid them!" The captain looked unsure.

"I can't just break protocol, Sir Cleric, not even for you," he turned to one of his men. "Watch them while I'm gone," He looked back at Bryston. "I'll go ask the commander about this. Wait here for my return. Try anything, and you're dead," He hurried off through a postern gate. Reuben shifted impatiently. Alyndra remained sober. Cerys and Bryston eyed the crossbows and halberds with understandable anxiety. It was to be hoped that they wouldn't be attacked by the guards. It was the last thing they needed. Even if they survived, they would be dubbed enemies of the kingdom, which was never good. After ten minutes, the captain returned. "The commander grants the Elf access to the city, but you must vouch for her and any trouble she causes will be on both your heads,"

"Very well," Bryston nodded. "I assure you that we will cause no trouble,"

"See that ya don't," the captain blew a whistle and the portcullis slid upwards. The other guards backed off, still glowering at Alyndra as the company proceeded into the city. The stablehand said little but his little phrase that he was paid to say as he took back the horses and noted their return, casting a stink eye at the Elf maiden. The city was set up much like Honeyhorn, what with the large number of homes, though the faces here were anything but friendly. It was hardly surprising, as the townsfolk were right to be wary of outsiders and Alyndra's being an Elf was definitely the crux of this. She self-consciously pulled her hood up to hide her ears.

In ten more minutes, they reached the center of town and spotted the inn, the Water Lodge.

"'Kay, guys. I'm gonna go get some equipment fer us, if there's any good stuff," Cerys turned to the others. "Ya should get some rooms," She received nearly all of the rest of their money, to Reuben's annoyance. "'lyndra. Sorry, but ya should prob'ly go stay in yer room till I get back," she looked apologetic. "I'll try ta get ya a robe 'n some boots that're less Elvish ta get these bastards ta stop noticin' ya as much,"

"I understand," the Elf murmured, put out. The party split up. Cerys headed off to the nearby Quenched Blades and Armor, and the other three went into the pub. Many were the glares that were given to Alyndra as they entered. Reuben returned some of them, feeling annoyed, and went up to the counter, ignoring the few jeers that were heard.

"Four rooms," he grunted, slamming some gold on the counter.

"Right, two hundred gold," the barkeep replied coldly.

"Seems a bit high fer four rooms," Reuben observed, frowning. "Th' sign says twenty-five a room per night,"

"Elves 'n their buddies pay extra, 'less ya want me callin' th' guards," the man threatened.

"Fuck you," the Fighter shoved the gold over.

"Same ta you, Elf-lovin' bastard," four keys were thrown at him. Normally, Reuben would have decked the man into the shelf behind him, but didn't relish having an entire militia on his case, so he took the abuse with a rude gesture and led the other two to the nearby stairwell.

"Ya fuckin' owe me, doxy," he grunted as they ascended the stairs. "Double rates 'cause o' yer damn ears!"

"My apologies..." she mumbled, handing over some money. Reuben was visibly shocked for a moment, before covering it again.

"Don't be discouraged, this isn't your fault," Bryston tried to console her.

"These Humans can go fuck themselves," she muttered in Elvish, grabbing a key and locking herself in her room.

"Damn, I wish I could deck some'un 'round here. They're gettin' on m' nerves," the Fighter clenched a fist. "Furthermore, how 'm I s'posed ta drink wit' double rates?" Bryston didn't answer, instead uttering a silent prayer for the misguided and cruel citizens of the city.

* * *

Cerys returned with a large crate, an hour later, and dropped it with a thud at the top of the stairs.

"Lucky th' shopkeep didn' know who I'm wit', 'r I wouldn'a had enough gold," she expressed after hearing Reuben's account. "I cain't wait ta leave this place,"

"Mistwatch is fairly tolerant of everyone," Bryston revealed. "Though the guard that are not the Templar Knights may still give us trouble,"

"Anyway, I got ya a cuirass an' a better helmet, Reuby," she continued, opening the crate.

"Stop callin' me that," he growled.

"One fer me and fer cloth-boy, too," she ignored him. "An' I got th' robe, an' boots, an' somethin' else fer Alyndra," She looked around, noting the Elf's absence. She went over to the locked door and knocked, once Reuben pointed at it brusquely to let her know which door. "'lyndra! I'm back!" The door opened and the stony-faced Elf emerged. Cerys's smile faltered a bit, but she recovered. "Got ya a robe an' somethin' that may help ya," She held up a brown robe, made in the fashion of her Elvish one, but without the color or art of it and some brown boots that were quite unremarkable and made of brown leather. Alyndra frowned at the plain, brown belt and cloth of the robe and the leather and rounded shape of the boots. She took it without relish and turned to go don it. "Here," Cerys thrust a sheathed rapier with a swept hilt at her. "Heard ya like this thing," Bryston blushed guiltily. Alyndra smiled, taking the blade gratefully.

"My thanks, Cerys," she went back in her room to change. Reuben came back from his, now wearing the cuirass and his new helmet. Both were a little lighter than the previous gear, though still made of steel, and the helmet had cheek guards and extended over the entire back of his head. It was lined with leather inside, for more comfort.

"Nicer 'n th' last stuff," he mentioned briefly. "Not bad, Cerys,"

"Yes, I like this helmet better," Bryston concurred. Cerys donned hers, putting the other one in the crate.

"Lighter an' more pr'tective," she adjoined, putting the lid back on the crate after Reuben put his splint mail inside and the helmets. "Now I'm gonna go sell this stuff fer some gold. See ya later," she hefted the crate by its rope handles and lugged it back down the stairs. Reuben grunted and returned to his room to eat some more of his travel provisions.

* * *

Alyndra looked unhappily at herself in the small mirror that hung in her room. She looked plain and dull, with none of the beauty afforded by her robe that she had brought from Tweplund. Sadly she folded it up and stowed it away in her bag. The boots were odd, too. The point made the footwear and changed the balance of the boot. The pointy boots, too, went into the bag, with reverence.

'The foolishness of Humans. Labelling me so, because of what others have committed.' she thought. 'All the more justification to eradicate those brigands, posthaste!' She withdrew her spell book from her satchel and set about studying it. 'I will prove these dullards false!'

* * *

Reuben wandered out of his room and into the tavern, after a bit. He tried to negotiate with the bartender by telling him that he hated the Elf and that he was being forced to be in a party with her, but to no avail.

"Well, fuck ya too, bastard!" he growled, walking away angrily and resisting the evil urge to kill the guy or, at least, maim him. He was about to return upstairs when one of the patrons beckoned him over. It was a scruffy-looking man with messy short brown hair an unkempt matching beard that went to his chest. He was clad in a weathered-looking cuirass and had his face-guarded helmet off on the table. He had a sword and two axes with him, though one of the latter was being carried on his back. Reuben frowned and went over, sitting with the man. The man poured a drink from his flagon, into an extra mug, shoving it over. The Fighter was hesitant to take it and cocked an eyebrow. "Who th' hell're you?" he inquired bluntly.

"Oh, Nieves, I'm wounded," the man grinned roguishly. "Ya done forgot 'bout yer ol' buddies, Th' Rough Blades?"

"Oh, Burns, thought I smelled blood," Rebuen jested humorlessly.

"Ah, c'mon, kid, we had some good times," Louis nudged him with a fist.

"Yeah, leavin' me ta get beat by them guards that one time was real fun," Reuben grunted.

"Don' be that way. I'm here on business fer th' crown," Louis pressed.

"What? They need some orphans torched?" the Fighter said with disdain.

"Nah, some merchants're sellin' ta brigands 'r some such shit," Louis waved his hand around dismissively. "I'm ta make mincemeat of 'em 'n their hirelings. They're holed up in a warehouse on th' east side o' Dewhold. Five thousand reward, Nieves. We could split it. Jus' like ol' times,"

"Tch...yer lucky I need th' gold," Reuben shook his head. "So when 'r we doin' this? My group's headin' out t'morrow, sounds like,"

"I'm raidin' 'em t'night," Louis answered, getting up and draining his mug. "Let's go get 'em!"

* * *

They stepped outside, peering around in the golden light of late afternoon. Louis set off along the road, heading east. Reuben trod along after him.

"Hear they got some decent armor," the other mercenary commented, pausing briefly, pulling the axe off of his back and handing it to Reuben. "Y' might need this," Reuben looked doubtfully at the weapon. It was a standard Broad Axe, though with a hammer end opposite the cutting end, adding to the weight and bludgeoning power and giving a second method of attack. Thick Steel rings were affixed on the ash handle, making it appear to have alternating rings of wood and metal. He stuck it in his belt.

The duo continued along, occasionally ducking into the shadows of a building when some men in splint mail, gauntlets, steel caps, and greaves would walk by, looking around and clutching at their hastas. Finally, they came to a wooden warehouse, guarded by four more of the armed men. Two had hastas, two had falchions. None had shields.

"This'll be easy!" Louis said gleefully, pulling out his axe. Reuben drew his too, remembering why he didn't like this guy.

'Well, I'll get done wit' this an' then I won't have ta see 'im ag'in.' he thought. Louis rushed the other mercenaries, catching them off guard. One had his hasta cloven in half, followed by his face. Louis bashed one of the falchion-wielding men and stunned him, allowing Reuben to partially behead him. The other hasta man tried to stab Louis but his weapon was hooked away by an axe before the axe bashed him in the face, knocking him down for a finishing blow to the face. Reuben batted the last man's falchion to the side, bashing the man in the face with the hammer end of his axe and finishing him similarly. Several more mercenaries scrambled from inside, as well as from the surrounding area. Reuben and Louis stood back to back and repelled them as they came, slowly whittling away at their numbers. In a few short minutes, they were able to press the remaining six men inside, where they saw the merchants cowering.

"You murdering devils will never win!" one of the merchants shouted as two more of their guards fell. "Even if you kill us, others will foil your evil deeds!" Louis quickly silenced the man with a hard blow to the skull. The other merchants tried to flee, some tripping on their fancy robes, to their doom, and others just weren't fast enough to escape Louis as he focused on killing them with ruthless efficiency and a bit of enjoyment. Reuben finished off the last guard as Louis took down the last, begging merchant.

"Have mercy! In the name of the Lord Angelick-AGH!" the man cried, crumpling where he cowered. Louis wiped his axe blade and put the weapon back in his belt.

"A job well done, if I do say so m'self," he said, tossing a sack of gold to Reuben. "Here's yer half, Nieves," Reuben opened the sack and quickly counted it, testing its authenticity for good measure. "Heh, good ta see ya ain't lost yer skill. I'd be offended if ya didn' check th' gold!" Reuben frowned at the corpses that had been left in the wake of the battle.

"Well, we're done here. See ya never," he turned and began to leave the Rough Blade behind.

"We got another job over in Grimcrest, if ya got th' balls af'er what happened b'fore!" Louis called after him.

"Fuck off!" Reuben snapped over his shoulder.

* * *

Both of them quickly left the area before the town guard arrived, though Reuben was doubtful on his way back to the inn. 'Somethin' ain't right here. Them merchants didn't sound like they were up ta no good. They thought _we_ were th' bad guys. It'd be like Louis ta get me mixed up in some shitty political stuff.' He shook his head. 'Whatever. Time ta do what I always do an' forget this ever happened.' He cleaned his axe and put it away. 'At least I got a free axe off th' bastard.' Rain began to fall as the clouds covered the last of the sun's light as it left the sky. "Shit," he hissed, drawing his cloak around him. 'Still, Grimcrest...no. I ain't goin' back there, ever.'

* * *

There was quite a bit of clamor as Reuben reentered the inn after ducking multiple patrols that were out looking for someone. It didn't take a scholar to figure out that he might be one of them, even if the guards themselves didn't know it. From the snatches of conversation that he caught as he made his way to the stairs, news of the incident with the merchants had already spread quite a bit.

"Where've ya been, Reuby?" Cerys asked as he came up the stairs, throwing off his wet hood. "There was a buncha merchants killed while ya were out, from th' sound o' it,"

"Wonder what bastard mighta done that?" he muttered. "Well, none o' our business. Let's jus' hope they don' pin it on the Elf,"

"Bryston had ta vouch fer her havin' been at th' inn th' entire time, though th' guards weren't nice 'bout it. W' almost came ta blows," the Huntress frowned.

"Well, I'm headin' ta bed. See ya t'morrow," Reuben went into his room without further ado.

'I gotta wonder...' Cerys thought after the Fighter left the hallway. 'He's bein' a bit evasive an' he's got a new axe...' She shrugged. 'Well, I ain' got no evidence, neither way, an' he ain't gonna tell me. Guess I just gotta trust in th' guy.' She returned to her own room. 'I jus' hope we don' get woke up in th' night in this ter'ble place,"

So ended another day in their journey. Hatred, fear, and death seemed to rule the day, at present, and it was unforeseeable that things might get better. The Elvish bandits, the lies, and the possible corruption could only lead further down a darker path that the four would have to walk together. It was possible that a light awaited at the end, though, wherever that could be.

* * *

 **We're getting to the serious stuff now, as I said we were. Poor Alyndra has to sacrifice some of her individuality, Reuben is called to question his morals even more, and we see the darker side of people begin to be revealed. Please review with what you think of this and try to make valid criticism that's helpful, if you make any at all.  
**

 **Addendum: Everyone always seems to forget the footwear on characters, myself included. Maybe it's the least notable part of an outfit? Anyway, that's a fix I had to make, proving the point.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ran a bit long. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Might help to listen to Gregorian singing to get into the mood in the latter part of the chapter, but it's not necessary. Enjoy.**

* * *

As though inspired by the morose mood that had descended upon the company, the weather remained bleak as the morning came and the local bell tower tolled the dawn. Sheets of rain drenched the city's buildings and streets, making travel seem all the more distasteful. The quartet breakfasted on more rations from their packs and finished their water. Emerging from their rooms, they went down the stairs together. Alyndra, now dressed in plain brown with matching leather boots, kept her hood up to hide her ears. The barkeeper gave Reuben a nasty look as the Fighter hurled the keys back in the man's face. Fewer were the looks that were attracted, now. It seemed that most of the patrons didn't keep a good memory, likely from excessive drinking, and didn't recognize Alyndra for what she was, simply due to a simple wardrobe change. The rest of the party pulled up their hoods and they stepped out into the rain. The group headed south, making for the southwest gate that would lead on to their destination, filling their water bottles as they went.

"We're gonna have ta walk," Cerys commented over the loud patter of precipitation. "Used th' last o' our money up yesterd'y,"

"I got coin," Reuben volunteered, uncharacteristically.

"How?" Cerys inquired, her suspicions rousing themselves again.

"Found it in th' street," the Mercenary answered impatiently. "Let's go!" He increased his pace and pulled ahead of the group.

'Why do I get th' feelin' that he's hidin' somethin'?' the Huntress thought. They went on for a bit, dodging the few people who were still in the streets. Most didn't give them a second glance as they hurried to their terminals. Finally, they came to the gate.

"Four horses to Mistwatch," Reuben grunted at the stablekeeper. He looked over the group, likely checking that none of them were Elves and pricing accordingly, Reuben assumed.

"Right...three hundred gold," he received the money and jotted down something in his log. "Take those," Four chestnut male horses stood ready, wearing caparisons with the blue water drop of Dewhold on them. The party mounted their horses quickly and spurred them to the gate.

"Have a good trip," the guard captain grunted, blowing his whistle to signal the other guards to open the portcullis. The four headed out, spurring their steeds to a light pace. They were quiet for a bit, still brooding over what had transpired in the city. Alyndra was feeling disillusioned. True, she had been warned, but little can prepare anyone for unabashed hatred based off of something that had nothing to do with their personality or self. Bryston was little better off, as he had always been taught that there was always good in people, even if it was hard to find. He had come to realize, though, that some people were just not worth associating with, due to cruelty that they so wantonly inflicted, regardless of what good they may possess. The people of Dewhold had gone beyond caution and treating fellow children of Lord Angelick with such contempt filled him with sadness. He thought of the message that had appeared in a flash of light, the previous night, and how it had summoned him on behalf of the Grand Father. He had returned one, of course, though his Sending spell wasn't quite strong enough to send much more than a couple of sentences. He prayed that the Grand Father would understand it. He likely would, in his wisdom.

Reuben was simply irritated, though that some of it may be on Alyndra's behalf didn't really cross his mind. He was more preoccupied with getting dragged back into things that he'd rather not be a part of. Cerys was of a similar mind.

"Reuben, yer not tellin' me somethin'," she frowned, riding beside him. "Ya came back at a real odd time, lookin' like rain'd washed some blood off o' ya 'n carryin' a new weapon 'n a bunch o' coin. Don' take a genius ta think ya mighta been th' one ta off them merchants," Reuben snarled.

"What I do fer a livin' ain't an' has never been any o' yer business, bitch!" he barked, a spark of fury in his eyes. His horse looked nervous and slowed a bit. "Fuck off afore I make ya!" He spurred his horse ahead, fortunate that he didn't spook him and get thrown off. Cerys sighed and shook her head.

'Always thought ya were diff'rent, Reuby. Was I wrong?' she thought disappointedly. The rest of the journey was silent. They came to a crossroads and turned southeast, heading on. Normally, they would have stopped to eat and rest, but something compelled them to continue on and stopping seemed to hold no virtue. More hours passed before they saw, ahead of them, a large, shimmering lake of beautiful aquamarine. Despite the lack of sun, it didn't lose its luster but seemed to drive away the gloom. The four felt their spirits lift a little as they gazed upon the lake and the walled city on the island in the midst of it. The stone of the walls and the buildings inside glowed with the same holy light as the lake, but one building stood above all others and possessed the greatest radiance.

"The beautiful Lake Mist and the glorious holy city of Mistwatch!" Bryston exclaimed. "Behold the Great Monastery!" The massive building towered over the rest of the city, far larger than any building of the church that the others had seen. There had been a small chapel in Oakenrest and a medium-sized temple in Honeyhorn and Dewhold, but this place dwarfed them all. It held dormitories, a giant hall of worship, multiple smaller halls of worship, a grand kitchen and a dining hall to match, schools for those training to be Clerics, a massive library full of ancient and valuable knowledge, and much more. It was far worthy to be the center of the Angelickan religion. The party continued down the road, now heartened. Alyndra even began to sing again. Around four hours from the noon, they came, at last, to the long stone bridge that led to the gilded gates and portcullis of the city's northwest gate. The horses' hoofs clattered as the gatehouse loomed higher, but they felt no fear, as they did not come here with an evil purpose.

"Halt!" two royal guards were standing by the open gates with halberds, four more were wielding crossbows. "What brings you to Mistwatch?" Bryston frowned at the unneeded hostility in their tones.

"We have come to speak to the Grand Father. I have even received summons," Bryston answered, uncertain.

"Well, I ain't heard o' no summons, so no entry!" the guard barked.

"I'm afraid that I _have_ heard of their summons, so if you'd be so kind as to step aside," Malakai came striding up, hale and hearty as ever, peering at the group from under his hood.

"Captain Elliot!" the guard hastily bowed. "My apologies..." The paladin peered at him.

"Do me a favor and start checking people's claims before dismissing them or I might have to have you reported," he requested with an underlying threat.

"Yes, sir," the guard said in a subdued manner. Malakai turned to the quartet.

"Well, let's not stand around in the rain all day," he beckoned them to follow him through the gates. They stopped, briefly, inside, and turned their horses in at the stable.

"Angelick bless you. Thank you for using our services," the stablemaster bowed his head.

"Amen," Bryston replied.

"Amen," Malakai agreed. The party set off down the streets of white, square stones. The houses were built of a similar fashion, some with lovely stain glass windows. Alyndra gushed about it as they went.

"So Malakai, didn' mention th't yer a cap'n," Cerys said conversationally. "Ya came across as more've a Knight Errant,"

"Yes, I do dabble in that," the Paladin scratched his head. "I am actually the Captain-in-Chief of the Templar Knights. I serve the Grand Father directly,"

"I thought that the Captain-in-Chief was a different man," Bryston adjoined, surprised.

"Well, I've only been recently appointed to the position. Former Captain-in-Chief Alexzander Dillard finally retired from the position three months ago. Not surprising, as he recently turned ninety," Malakai informed them. "My job's been tough, though, since the royal army seemed to suddenly decide that they needed to help guard Mistwatch. I think the Templar Knights are more than capable of doing their own job, thank you very much," he smiled. "So what have all of you been up to since we parted?"

"We journeyed to the hamlet of Stagdrift and participated in the hunting of immense beasts," Alyndra responded eagerly. Cerys whistled teasingly at her, making her blush.

"Really? I haven't had the pleasure of visiting Stagdrift," the Paladin said with interest. "Though I may hesitate if I may run into a giant creature,"

"Pussy," Reuben muttered. Cerys elbowed him, to little effect, as he was wearing armor, but he got the message.

"We also had some trouble up in Dewhold. Racist bastards ripped a new 'un in our wallet," Cerys elucidated. Malakai nodded.

"Unfortunately, anti-Elf sentiment is high at the moment, what with the war in the northeastern provinces," he answered.

"War? Between Elves and Humans?" Alyndra seemed shocked. "Preposterous!"

"But true, though Tweplund is not the culprit. There's a faction of bandits up there, causing no end to mischief. They've been a problem for centuries, but they've been getting more aggressive than they have been for a while, lately," Several more paladins passed by, hailing Malakai and his friends. He hailed them in return.

"It's pretty common knowledge," Reuben struck up. "Me an' Cerys grew up hearin' 'bout it. You two're jus' sheltered,"

"The Grand Father and my parents likely had a reason to keep it from me," Bryston defended.

"I am not so confident about my Headmaster," Alyndra frowned thoughtfully. "A centuries-long strife between our kindreds seems paramount to our history,"

"Well, you'll have to ask the Grand Father, because I don't know the details, myself," Malakai scratched his head again. "Maybe people don't like talking about it. I know I don't. So many lives have been lost to the Yelphine Brigade and they still hold the ruins of Shadeharbor, Sleetgarde, and Rimegrave and Fort Sleetgarde has been lost for six decades, though they seem to not have bothered with holding it. Destruction and misery seem to be the blackguards' delight," The party passed through a bustling town square, filled with stands peddling food, knickknacks, and various other things. The stands were set up such that a bit of rain wasn't stopping sales. A pub and weapons shop was present nearby, too. Alyndra began chattering away again in interest. Malakai allowed a halt, chuckling, as she examined the wares. Bryston joined in, explaining things to her when he could get a word in.

"So when'd we get a summons?" Reuben shot to Cerys.

"Bryston mentioned th't one appeared ta 'im las' night," the Huntress explained. "'parently, Clerics cen send messages wit' magic,"

"Hmm...seems convenient..." he murmured, watching his companions look through various wares. 'Since when are they my companions, anyway? I'm becomin' a fuckin' softie.' he admonished himself.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Alyndra had acquired a couple of knickknacks and an orange and a pear. The party set off as the Elf sampled the sour fruit, commenting on its flavor as her lips puckered. Chuckles were made at the adorable reaction. Reuben rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze on the massive monastery as they went upward along a winding path that climbed the hill that the building sat on. They came to the gate, at last, in the perimeter wall of the building. Two paladins greeted them and allowed them entry. The luminescent holy building towered over them as they entered the glowing bailey. Even the grass and flowers glowed with a divine light, making Alyndra excitedly go over to examine them. Malakai chuckled.

"If we keep stopping, we'll never get inside," he called jovially. "Come! I promise that you'll get your chance to look at the garden!" the Elf maiden grudgingly rejoined the group as they headed around the side of the building, passing more of the garden. After a bit, they finally came to the massive front doors. On each was etched the emblem of the Angelickan church. They were engraved in gilded mithral. Malakai approached the door, nodding to the two paladins nearby, and they opened the doors with levers that were next to them. As they entered, they came into a high-ceilinged room with paintings on said ceiling of ancient battles of gods, Clerics, and Templar Knights. Stained glass windows, only glimpsed from outside, lined the walls, glowing between the gilded marble pillars with an ethereal light. The windows depicted various saints and previous Great Fathers of the church. Two hundred lines of pews went forward in four rows of fifty. The party looked around in awe, lowering their hoods and listening to the songs sung by the robed monks and nuns that stood at the far end of the room.

"Truly formidable," Alyndra whispered. "Certainly the zenith of Human architecture," Reuben examined the large statue of a bearded man with long hair, in clerical robes and holding an ornate staff, that stood at the far end of the sanctuary, looming over the singers. This was the statue of Angelick, as he was ten thousand years ago, when he walked their world. There were usually at least one of these statues in every one of the holy buildings dedicated to him, but this one truly made one feel diminutive in his presence.

"Ya said it," he agreed.

"I never quite get used to the Grand Sanctuary," Bryston said quietly in awe. "I have only come here for High Group once. My parents and I were closer to one of the lesser sanctuaries so we went there for convenience,"

"Indeed, though this place is quite lovely," a venerable voice, deep, but laden with wisdom, said from behind them. They turned and saw an elderly man, clad in gold and white, his robe adorned with the golden cross on the breast. He wore a golden necklace and belt to match and his long, white hair was tied into a slipknot ponytail, mid-back. His beard, similarly, fell to his stomach. Bryston and Malakai immediately bowed to the man.

"Grand Father," they said reverently. He smiled, motioning them to rise.

"Now, my children, no need for such formalities outside of ceremony," he responded before turning to the others. "I extend most heartfelt greetings to you. I am Liam Riley, Grand Father of the Church of Angelick. What may I call you?"

"I'm Cerys Hunter, sir," the Huntress gave a little bow.

"I am known as Alyndra Virnan, your excellence," the Elf bowed lower.

"Pleased to meet you," Liam gave a little bow, himself. "It's been a while since I met our fairer kin, as they haven't been visiting lately. Though hardly surprising..." he shook his head solemnly and trailed off. "And you are?" he inquired of Reuben. He sighed.

"Reuben Nieves," he crossed his arms. The Grand Father didn't seem perturbed at all by the lackluster introduction.

"Indeed. I hope that you may set aside your sins, for a while, troubled one," the old man inclined his head.

"Y' don' know nothin' 'bout me, old man!" the Fighter snapped. "Don' act like ya do!"

"The first step to absolution is acceptance of your past, your deeds, the deeds of others. Fail to do that, and you're no better than Demonick," the old man walked past them, beckoning them to follow. Reuben grit his teeth angrily and trailed along with the others. "Demonick became disillusioned with living beings. Human, Elf, Dwarf, it didn't matter which race they were in terms of fallacy. All of them were subject to pride, temptation, arrogance, greed. It makes the tragedy of his war with the Lord Angelick all the more tragic. Lord Angelick sought and still seeks to see the good in everyone and bring it out over all of the darkness and evil that is latent in us all," They had finally reached the other end of the large room and he led them through a normal-sized door, though it still bore the gilded cross. A well-lit stone hallway, lined with heatless, permanant torches and paintings of various saints, Elves, and significant figures was revealed. Doors were interspersed here and there along the corridor. "Xanotter Yelphine has been flouting this teaching for centuries, allied as he is with Demonick, who grants him the powers of a Blackguard," he shook his head sadly, leading them into a sitting room and peering out a window that looked north. A few comfortable chairs and couches, covered in fur, sat around a modest table. A fire burned in a nearby ornate fireplace. Various paintings decorated the walls.

"Xanotter? I have not heard of him before," Alyndra interrupted.

"I suppose you would not have. Even we keepers of the secret knowledge seldom speak of these matters," Liam turned. "The Blackguard was banished, along with his followers, from Tweplund, nigh on two centuries ago. Their crimes of death, destruction, raising of the dead and monsters from the beyond to wreak havoc, and more were more than enough to warrant such measures. My friend Arbelladon was at the forefront of the battle and knows better than anyone of these matters,"

"If my Headmaster cognizes so adequately, why would he conceal it from his proteges? This sounds to be a vital portion of our history!" Alyndra exclaimed.

"Doubtless he has his reasons," Liam cast his eyes down as he settled himself into a comfortable armchair and gestured for the others to sit in the other, similar couches and chairs around the room. "But Xanotter's banishment is why he is in Falo now. He sailed across the ocean and landed near Shadeharbor. After setting up a camp northwest of there, he began harassing nearby settlements. His foothold is strong now,"

"Indeed, and it is causing more problems within the kingdom than just his assaults," Malakai adjoined.

"Yes, the king is worried as well," the Grand Father agreed.

"What's goin' on?" Cerys pressed. "If it has somethin' ta do wit' th' Golden Book..."

"Ah, you know about that?" Liam smiled.

"Yes, I aided them in retrieving it from Lostvault Tower," Malakai explained.

"Unfortunately, we gave it to Sir Hamilton, as was our contract," Bryston said ruefully.

"This bodes ill and confirms King Colten's suspicions," Liam frowned. "Bradley Hamilton is the protege of Baron Hudson Knowles. The Baron has been turning many other nobles and some of the people against the king, using the war as an excuse. He assumes that if he finds the right relic of the elder times, he may be able to make good on his promise to do better than the king in the war on Xanotter and, likely, gain enough support to oust him,"

"If we are aware of this, why is he permitted to continue with his dastardly crusade?" Alyndra inquired.

"He's clever and wields quite a bit of power, already," Malakai answered. "One false move and we could end up being labeled enemies of the state. The Baron already has little love for us, as the Templar Knights and the church are great supporters of the king and his fight against Xanotter. It doesn't help that he's employing mercenaries in addition to his own troops. Even the Rough Blades are under his sway, from what I hear,"

"Th' Rough Blades!" Reuben spoke up, standing. "Damn!"

"Reuby! Watch yer language in th' church!" Cerys scolded. "An' what're ya goin' on 'bout?"

"I met one of 'em last night an' he mentioned th't they're gonna pull somethin' in Grimcrest," the Fighter revealed, omitting the part about killing the mercenaries.

"Hmm...I wonder what...I'll have to alert my spies," Liam nodded to Malakai and he left to do so. "I have no doubt that Baron Knowles is up to nothing good. If you're willing, I ask that you make for Grimcrest and oppose whatever foulness that he has hired that misguided, greedy company to do,"

"If there's gold, I'm willin'," Reuben replied stubbornly.

"Reuben! There's lives at stake, 'ere!" Cerys snapped.

"At what locale is your respectability!" Alyndra added, also angry.

"No gold, no fight," he crossed his arms.

"Fuck you!" Alyndra barked in Elvish, forgetting that the Grand Father could understand her. "We shall journey to there ourselves! You are not essential!" she added in common language.

"Ya disappoint me, Reuben," Cerys said, downcast. "I thought ya were a good guy, underneath all th' shit, but ya jus' wan' money an' friends an' doin' th' right thing don' matter to ya. Yer no better 'n them Rough Blades," His eyes flashed and he smacked the Huntress across the face with enough force to knock her down. Alyndra looked scandalized and Bryston looked shocked.

"I ain't no fuckin' murderer like them bastards!" he roared. "Louis is th' one that killed them merchants an' he fuckin' lied ta me ta get me ta help wit' th' guys guardin' 'em! It was always that bastard!" He stormed out of the room.

"Such darkness within that child," Liam noted calmly as Cerys got up, rubbing her face and recovering from the shock. "He's suffered much and long, not least from those mercenaries. Given time, he will confront his past. I can feel it,"

"I hope so," Cerys muttered. "If not, I'll never forgive 'im,"

"Grand Father Riley possesses powers of clairvoyance in a significant measure," Bryston supported. "He likely knows of what he speaks,"

* * *

Reuben raged through the temple for a bit, making quite a few of the inhabitants nervous, and finally sat heavily down in a stone chair on an elevated porch that overlooked the city.

'Fuckin' people tryin' ta guilt me inta shit. I ain't goin' back ta Grimcrest! Who cares if them bastards're gonna do somethin' terrible? Them three're gonna be slaughtered wit' th' rest that oppose them guys.' It annoyed him that the prospect bothered him. 'Since when'm I such a pussy? I ain't never needed no one afore so why bother wit' these dumbasses?' He stared out at the city. 'This's all that bastard Louis's fault...'

* * *

Alyndra's brow was furrowed in thought as the party took their leave of the Grand Father and walked along the corridor, Bryston leading them on to the dining hall. The singing of monks and nuns still echoed through the building, giving the area a sense of spirituality and mysticism.

"What's up, 'lyndra?" Cerys asked, after watching the cogs turn in her head for a bit.

"I believe that I finally comprehend some things about Reuben," the Elf replied softly, pity on her features. "Xanotter must have been the fourth Elf that he referred to in Honeyhorn. The source of all of his hatred for my people. The Rough Blades must have raised him after the Blackguard destroyed his hometown," Cerys seemed taken aback at the Elf's long memory and deductive skills. "Cognate about it. He was always loath to speak of his hamlet of origin, of his parents, of his past...this must be why. I am...incongruous in how I feel of the man,"

"Well, he's a bastard, but we kinda understand 'im more, now," Cerys answered, also feeling sympathy.

"How terrible it must have been," Bryston had stopped, midway through the conversation. They now stood near a window. The rain still fell by outside. "I had prayed that his wounds may be healed, but I knew not that they may be so deep. He bears them well,"

"That's why I know that he's gotta come through!" Cerys exclaimed. "Th' Grand Father's right. He's gotta face this and I know 'e will! I know 'im, now,"

"I am unsure. Hatred is difficult to overcome and dangerous to wield against a Blackguard," Bryston shook his head sadly. "The Rough Blades are enough, for now,"

"Hmm...wa'n't even thinkin' o' that..." Cerys noted thoughtfully. "Guess it'll happen, though, won't it?"

"By the grace given to me by the Lord, it seems so," the Cleric looked out the window, gazing over the landscape. "A great foreboding rests on me,"

"The legendary Blackguard, Xanotter Yelphine..." Alyndra muttered.

* * *

Reuben paced around the temple, listening to the songs of the clergy. They were somewhat soothing, even if he didn't understand the Celestial tongue.

'Grimcrest, where I pussed out...Cen I really deal wit' that?' he thought, gazing idly over the statues that lined the high cloister he walked along. The wind wafted a bit of rain his way, periodically, but he didn't notice it. 'Louis r'members, 'course 'e does. Bastard was there. Told 'im I'd never work wit' 'im again...look how that shit turned out...' He looked out the gaps between the decorated pillars, gazing southeast, across Grimslime Swamp, towards where that city was. He stood there long, gazing out and losing himself in reflection, aided and abetted by the symphony of the choir.

* * *

"So are we gonna meet yer parents, cloth-boy?" Cerys inquired as they sat in the large dining hall. There were, at least, one hundred tables, made for twenty people apiece. The fare was good. Savory cheese, buttery bread, a nice slab of butter, meat roasted with a lovely array of spices from all across Dreneron, sweet fruits of varying type, and steamed vegetables sprinkled with salt were the entirety of the provender. Silver goblets of sweet red wine accompanied the meal.

"Angelick bless you," one of the monks that served them bowed.

"Amen," the three replied. The monks walked off, back to the adjacent kitchens, and left them to the meal.

"This is far superior to any foodstuffs that we have partaken of in quite some time!" Alyndra asserted cheerfully, smiling at the first bite of one of the fruits.

"Yeah, I'm in full agreement, 'ere. Ya didn' tell me ya got ta eat so good 'ere, kid!" Cerys elbowed Bryston, nearly making him spill his wine as he sipped at it.

"It didn't occur to me," he scratched his head apologetically. "I compared the fare elsewhere to this, but didn't mention what I was comparing to. I'm not sure why,"

"This wine recalls that of my own land," Alyndra adjoined.

"Not surprising, as the Elvish and the Human seem to unite here," Bryston looked around at the high ceiling and pillars decorated with crosses all the way up, with decent spaces between each cross. There were various paintings and statues around the perimeter. Some were of Elves, some of Humans.

"Likely by virtue of the camaraderie shared by the heads of the Magickal Academy and the Great Monastery," Alyndra deduced. "It is an alleviation to encounter some familiarity within this atypical land," They continued to discuss the Elvish influence in the architecture, for a while, as they enjoyed the favorable board. Finally, the food was eaten, the wine was drunk, and they were feeling at ease.

"So should we go meet yer folks, now?" Cerys pressed.

"If you insist," Bryston responded. "I was hoping to give you a tour of the monastery, but I suppose it can wait," He led them from the hall and along a corridor. They went up some stairs and along an elevated cloister on the east side before ascending another staircase. The corridors up here were different, though mainly because of the wooden signs affixed near each door. The Cleric led the two past many doors, mentally reading each sign and counting them. "Ah! Here we are!" he pointed to the sign that read: Nicholas and Megan Cross.

"So where's _yer_ room?" Cerys inquired.

"I'll show you, later," the Cleric answered, knocking on the door.

"A moment, if you please!" a kind, feminine voice called from within. There were footsteps and the door, marked with a cross, like all of the doors in the building, opened to reveal a blond woman in her forties. She dressed in similar attire to Bryston, also being a Cleric, though it was obvious that she wore no armor, as he did. Her face lit up as she pulled him into a hug. "Bryston! My little boy is back!" He returned the hug, blushing from the chortles that came from his companions. Alyndra, at least, tried to hide them behind the back of her hand. She released him, after a space. "Why does it feel like you're wearing armor?"

"I am, mother. The world is dangerous and I needed protection," he elucidated apologetically.

"Well, I can understand that...at least you put it under your robe so as to not obscure your appearance..." she looked mildly put out, but rallied, turning to the other two. "Ah! Are you my son's friends?"

"Indeed, I possess the cognomen of Alyndra Virnan," the Elf inclined her head.

"I'm Cerys Hunter," the Huntress waved.

"Hmm...you've certainly found some odd friends, Bryston..." Megan muttered. "Oh, forgive me! It's a pleasure to meet both of you! I'm Megan Cross! My husband, Nicholas, is at Group at the moment, or he would be here to greet you, as well,"

"We all take turns singing at Group," Bryston explained for the sake of his comrades.

"We'd introduce Reuben ta ya, miss, but 'e's off tourin' th' place wi'out us," Cerys interjected.

"I see...well, come in, if it please you," the woman stepped aside and allowed them entry. The room was typical for the monastery. The walls were white and pristine, though a few paintings hung here and there. A picture of the Cross family hung over the fireplace, which currently held a fire to drive away the chill. The picture showed a blond man, also dressed as a Cleric, with his arms around Megan and a younger Bryston. He had to be twelve in the picture. All three had the same hair and eyes. The resemblance was uncanny.

"I can make us some tea, if you like," Megan offered. "Please make yourselves at home," She pointed them to the armchairs near the fire.

"Thank you," Alyndra replied as she took a seat. Mrs. Cross hurried off to put on the tea kettle.

* * *

Reuben snapped out of his stupor as his stomach growled. Grumbling, he headed off to look for the dining hall. Fortunately, it didn't take an expert tracker to smell food when you were near it and he took less than thirty minutes to wander into the hall.

'Place's too fancy fer me.' he thought, looking around at the decorations. 'How's anyone live 'ere wi'out goin' nuts?' A monk hurried over to him as he neared a table.

"Welcome, good sir. Are you interested in dining, at this time?" the man asked.

"Sure," the Fighter answered shortly.

"Very well. Have a seat and we will fetch your board," the man hurried off to the kitchens, which were behind a double door at the far end of the room. Reuben frowned and sat down.

'Weird ta have some'un waitin' on me.' Three monks hurried out, not two minutes later, and arrayed a good spread of foodstuffs in front of him, complete with the customary goblet of wine.

"Angelick bless you," the monk hurried off again. The Fighter watched him go before turning to the food.

'I'm startin' ta see why Cleric boy was gripin' 'bout th' inns.' he observed as he tucked in to the meal. 'This stuff's real good.' He sipped at the wine. 'Not bad...I'm not one fer wine, but I could deal wit' this stuff.'

* * *

Alyndra, Bryston, Cerys, and Megan sat around the small table that sat in the midst of the chairs in the sitting room. They sipped at tea from small china cups and nibbled at the scones that she has proffered, as they spoke between sips and bites.

"So what have you been up to, dear?" Megan inquired of Bryston. "It's been almost a month since you left, saying that you were going to do good in the world,"

"Where to begin?" the Cleric scratched his head. "Well..." So the story was told, aided and annotated by Cerys and Alyndra, at times. The battle with the Orc bandits, the giant black bear at Oakenrest, the camp of Orc brigands that had come from the Orc mountains, the bounty hunters of Honeyhorn, Lostvault Tower and its terrifying Lich. They spoke of Sir Hamilton, Stagdrift, their hunting adventure there, the bigotry and distrust in Dewhold, the incident with the merchants, their snag in entering Mistwatch, their conversation with the Grand Father. It made quite a long tale, the tea and biscuits had to be replenished part-way through. Megan became more and more shocked and impressed as the saga went on. Finally, the story came to an end, as far as it had yet gone, and they were silent for a bit. It had been hours and the sun was setting outside, as indicated by the golden light peeking through a nearby gothic-style, glass window.

"You've been through a lot, Bryston," Mrs. Cross said, at last. "More than many of our Elder Clerics could brag of,"

"Indeed, but I feel I am stronger for it," he said with a confident smile.

"I just wish that you could be content and stay here, now that you've gone and done good deeds, as a Cleric must," she answered sadly. "But I see that you have more, yet, to do and to see," She wiped an eye with a white handkerchief. "I'm so proud of you," She pulled him into another hug. The door opened, around this time, and Nicholas entered, looking exhausted but cheerful enough.

"Ah! Bryston!" he exclaimed hoarsely, his voice worn from singing all day. He hastened over and pulled him into a hug of his own. "Where have you been, son? What have you been doing?"

"It would be too tedious to repeat it all. I've just finished telling mother," Bryston responded.

"Well, I know how it is to be tired of speaking," Mr. Cross nodded. "I'm just wanting dinner, a bath, and some rest,"

"Oh! I must prepare dinner!" Megan hurried off to the kitchen. Nicholas was about to calm her, but his throat protested, so he just took her chair.

"Father, these are my friends, Cerys Hunter and Alyndra Virnan," Bryston indicated the two women.

"Charmed," Cerys waved.

"My salutations," Alyndra adjoined.

"Nicholas Cross," Nicholas replied. "Nice to see that you've found two lovely ladies, Bryston," he teased, looking to his son. Predictably, Bryston flushed.

"Father! It's not like that! They just happened to join up with me in Oakenrest! There's another man in our group too!" the Cleric protested, flustered.

"He's somewhere 'round 'ere," Cerys explained. "Kinda rough 'n tough, though,"

"Now I've really got to hear the story," Nicholas rasped.

"We'll review it over dinner," Cerys grumbled. "In short,"

"Absolve us, but, as previously expounded, it would be much too onerous to rehearse anew, in full," Alyndra apologized.

* * *

Dinner was as good as one could expect at the Great Monastery. It seemed that the parishioners were supplied as well as the main kitchens, in term of food quality. After the meal, Nicholas was still digesting the story of their journey, despite having only heard it in briefer terms than Megan had received it.

"That's a bundle, to be sure," he noted, less hoarse, now, due to having taken some tea and honey and pain killing herbs. "Seems like you've gotten caught up in something big,"

"I feel that that is, unfortunately, the case," Bryston agreed gravely.

"Well, if what you've told me is true, you and your friends can handle it," he nodded. "But let's put aside that, for now. We should go to the Great Bathhouse and cleanse away our troubles so that we may find restful sleep,"

"Oh! I have been yearning to contemplate the bathhouses of Mistwatch!" Alyndra said excitedly. "I speculate if they are, at all, analogous to the facilities of Magevault?" Bryston smiled at her enthusiasm.

* * *

Ironically, Reuben had just received the same suggestion, as he finished his meal, after wandering around and thinking for hours after the previous one, and was now allowing a monk to lead him to the northwest part of the complex. There were many stairs and corridors and he didn't really keep track, after a bit, but they finally came to a relatively large set of double doors in a large room adjacent to the northern high cloister.

"Towels, robes, and other paraphernalia are available," the monk gestured to the nearby shelves and racks that lined the walls. "The baths are within. Be courteous to other bathers and try not to stay in the water too long and pass out. Angelick keep you," the monk hastened off. Reuben rolled his eyes and began to gather together bathing supplies. There was a room, nearby, full of stalls in the stone walls, shielded by curtains. He shed his armor and exchanged his tunic for the robe.

'Don't see what th' point is o' havin' a robe, but, knowin' these fools, this place's got no private bath spots.' The Fighter shook his head and stowed this things inside the alcove that was inside the stall. He pulled the curtain back, flipping the sign next to the stall, and headed off to the baths with his towel.

The Great Bathhouse was called so for a reason. The room was high-ceilinged and vast, just as most of the rooms in the building were, and occupied by four vast pools of water, two steaming, two not so. There were around fifty bathers around, at the moment, but it wasn't crowded, as the room was made for three hundred. Reuben gauged the setup quickly, and made his way to one of the hot baths. The warmth was soothing, and relaxed the aches and pains of mind and body. He soaked there for a good while, content to do so instead of washing and leaving like he normally did. In fact, it seemed that washing might not be all that necessary. This hot-springs kind of setup was for a reason.

* * *

"The waters cleanse with divine magic," Bryston explained as the five of them soaked in the hot pool opposite of the one Reuben had chosen, though they didn't know it. "They relax and comfort, without the need for mundane bathing routines. Not that we don't have private baths, but they aren't really necessary here and they're mainly for guests that are uncomfortable with this setup,"

"I must say that these baths are exquisite!" Alyndra announced, laying back against the pool's side with her eyes closed. "Though not as defiant of physics as those of Magevault, I can certainly detect the influence of the Elves here," Cerys swam a couple of laps, just to see if she could, and came back, settling next to the others.

"Kinda wish I could do this ev'ryday..." she sighed, brushing a lock of loose hair out of her face. This was the first time that they had seen her with her hair down. It looked odd, but not necessarily unpleasant.

"Quit starin', cloth-boy!" she teased, flipping her hair, or trying to and being hindered by the water. "I know I'm sexy, but there's people 'round!" Bryston blushed and it had little to do with the water.

"C-Cerys! I-I wasn't..." he submerged in the water to hide part of his face. The others chuckled.

"Come now, dear, she was making a jest," Megan comforted.

* * *

"Hey, Reuby!" Cerys greeted him drowsily as they left the baths, back in their gear, which had been cleaned for them by the staff.

"Hey," he muttered, pausing in the cloister to turn to them. "Ya 'bout ta turn in?"

"Yes," Bryston replied, also very relaxed. "We were just about to return to my home. There are spare rooms nearby. The Grand Father just sent word of it," He showed a handful of keys.

"Good to meet you, Reuben," Nicholas offered, gathering his identity from the conversation, holding out his hand.

"If I di'n't know better, I'd say yer th' Cleric's dad," the Mercenary said bluntly, reluctantly shaking the offered hand.

"I am also pleased to meet you," Megan added. "I'm Megan Cross and this is my husband, Nicholas,"

"Great..." Reuben yawned. "Now where's th' beds?"

"Of course, this way," Bryston offered. "Good night, mother, father. May Lord Angelick grant you restful and peaceful sleep,"

"Amen," his parents recited together before taking their leave.

* * *

The constant singing softened as night deepened. Enchanted torches lit the cloisters and corridors as the quartet ascended back to the dormitories. Bryston lived a floor up from his parents, it seemed, and near a few empty living spaces. He handed out keys, pointing to three adjacent doors.

"Angelick bless your sleep," he yawned.

"Amen," Cerys and Alyndra agreed, heading off to other rooms. The spare rooms were bare, having only basic amenities. A couple of chairs of wood, a wood burning stove, a bed in the master bed chamber. The white walls were bland in the absence of decoration. Bryston's home was decorated a bit and had furniture similar to his parents, even a matching picture above the mantelpiece, but hadn't actually taken much time to decorate before he left. They were all too tired to care, though, and, stripping off their gear, collapsed on their beds, passing into peaceful sleep quickly.

* * *

All in all, it had been a good day, though it started with a bit of bitterness. Such was the magic of the hallowed Great Monastery that troubles and darkness were, for a time, forgotten, and peace and rest could be found. There was no doubt that the future would hold challenge, sin, and test the limits of their minds and bodies, but, for now, they took a respite.

* * *

 **Yep, back to the journey in the next chapter, but this was nice, too. Review, if you please.  
**


End file.
